Guardian
by EternalxInsanity
Summary: Two years have passed since Mark became Serenity's Guardian. They've kept their distance from each other, but now Serenity needs him more than ever; an old flame has come back seeking his revenge: The Wrath of the Titans. Sequel to Soulless.
1. Prologue

Dedication: To the best pen-pal anyone could ever ask for. Kayla, you're not only my writing partner and partner in crime, but you're also my best friend. We've been friends for many years, my dear, and I hope you understand just what your friendship means to me. I love ya, Pretty Princess. (A.N: Her pen-name is Skillet's Lady Goddess. Go read her shiz.)

Prologue

 _Long ago, in an age before written history, a star shattered into billions of pieces. From a single speck of star dust, Chaos was molded. He brought the worlds together; with the strands of chaos he wove what was to be a perfect world, with beautiful forests and vast, deep oceans, majestic valleys and rustic mountain ranges. It was a beautiful, blue marble of perfection but he felt nothing of the thing he created. It was beautiful, but it was empty, devoid of life. He watched as his creation spun, filling his days with its blind beauty._

 _Centuries seemed to pass as he observed his creation. He was about to wipe it out when a delicate, pale hand touched his shoulder. He turned, spying the glorious woman beside him. As he'd been watching the earth for so long, Chaos hadn't noticed the star dust creating the beautiful creature beside him. With hair as black as the void and skin as white as the first snowfall, she was beauty personified, his to hold for all eternity. She was Nyx, and together they created the rest of the universe. Chaos found that he was happy; he had a companion. Together, they brought life to the world and their happiness and light spread like wildfire throughout the cosmos. They joined together and had children, and their children had children, creating the first pantheon._

 _The Titans._

 _Millennia passed, Chaos and Nyx grew tired. Their children had reaped what they'd sown, bringing new life to the old blue marble their parents had created. The Olympians were now in charge. Zeus, Hades, Poseidon and the rest had taken refuge on Olympus, allowing them perfect sight of the humans beneath them. The oldest of the Titans retired to Elysium, at the very core of the world Chaos had woven together at the very beginning, and slept, choosing to ignore the plight of the world they had created. The Divine, the four daughters they left behind, were to oversee the world and everything on it._

 _Gaia and Mionette, Earth and Fire, danced through the world, creating a warm, safe environment for humankind and its children. Iremia and Aries, Air and Water, would laugh as they blew or washed away all they thought was evil or destructive to the world their parents had created._

 _Zeus, in his infinite arrogance, saw the Titans reigning supreme, and chose to lock them away or punish them until the end of everything. Cronus, the leader of the last remaining Titans that had not chosen to sleep, chose to devour his children instead of allowing the Olympians to overthrow him. In the end, Zeus prevailed and locked his father and his kin away in the very depths of Tartarus, proving, to himself at least, that the Titans were an inferior race of Gods. The Olympians were once again the dominant pantheon in the heavens._

 _Humans rejoiced as the destructive Titans were imprisoned for all time, praising the Olympians, Zeus especially, for taking care of them. With every cheer, the Olympians grew more and more overzealous of their ability to use the humans as their own cattle._

 _Since the dawn of philosophy, the strength of the Olympians passed out of all knowledge, allowing humans to spread their parasitic disease across all corners of the globe. Darkness crept back into the psyche of the world, bringing with it a nameless fear. Zeus, God of the Skies and Lord of Olympus watched this fear consume them and withdrew from the mortal world, making the decision to abandon the humans that once praised their name. The Olympians would live, forever eternal, and watch as man slowly destroyed itself._

 _The times have changed since the Olympians retreated to Mount Olympus. Fables have been written, stories have been told. Those stories became History. History became legend. The Olympians all but faded from memory, lost to the annals of time. Humans learned to live without them, and sailed across the world to begin life again. Borders were put in place and society was built again. Culture flourished, bringing with it new hope to an old flame. Could the Olympians return as the Gods they once were, or would humanity reject them once and for all?_

 _The latter was true; humanity rejected them, telling the world that they were just stories to scare little children, old fables to explain the unexplained, as they did all things. Humans are fickle in this and all ways._

 _However, the world has changed. I feel it in the water, the earth. I smell it in the air. The winds of destiny are blowing, changing the world to suit its image once again. The Old Ones are rising, bringing with them the forces of destruction and recreation..._

 _I must know them, before everything is lost to the old._


	2. Chapter One: The Fires of Hope

Chapter One: The Fires of Hope

 _Austin, Texas- March, 2012_

Spring had finally arrived, a little later then usual, bringing with it new life and hope for the world. Flowers bloomed with beautiful colors after a horrible winter of snow and freezing temperatures, animals that had been sleeping during the colder months were finally waking up to embrace the world once again. The world was starting to speed up again, returning to the hustle and bustle it had always been.

In a field just outside of the home he shared with his wife lay a man. His name was Mark Calaway. Tall, muscular and sturdy, he was relaxing on his back, allowing his limbs to spread across the grass beneath him. Arms curled behind his head, he watched as fluffy, white clouds floated slowly passed, enjoying the sunny afternoon. A cool breeze rustled the leaves on the trees around him, shaking their inhabitants awake. The birds were chirping as they flitted between the branches of the tall oak trees; the horses in the field with him were grazing not too far away, enjoying the sun. It was a beautiful day in paradise.

He turned his head slightly when he heard the sound of footsteps across the field. Walking towards him in a pair of Daisy Duke shorts and a white singlet was his wife, Michelle, supporting a barely-pregnant stomach. Her long, blonde hair was curled into a high pony-tail that hung down passed her shoulders. She was beautiful in the sunlight, tan and slender. His eyes traveled to her stomach and he smiled. Child number eight was on the way, their first child together.

"Hello, beautiful," he said, leaning up on his elbows as she crossed the field to him and sat down. She grinned at him.

"Are you ever going to stop calling me that?" she asked, leaning forward to kiss him on the forehead. He shot her a playful pout before he reached behind her back and pulled her down, the pair of them laughing as they rolled through the grass. He stopped them before they could roll down the hill into the creek and grinned down at her, his mouth curled into a cheeky smirk.

"Are you telling me I should lie to you every day?" he asked, leaning down to nip at her nose. She giggled and reached up to play with his hair. It was long and tied back in a pony-tail, but the roll in the grass had loosened a few locks and they hung in his eyes.

"No, but you've killed the word. Calling me beautiful every day devalues it," she replied, smile still in place. He shook his head.

"It only devalues it if I don't mean it."

He rolled off her, sitting in the grass and looking down at her. She had an arm curled around her bump, checking to see if the baby was okay. He knew it was; he could still hear the heartbeat even from his place beside her.

"How's baby today?" he asked, watching her sit up. Michelle shrugged, smirking.

"The same as always; curled up beside my kidneys so every time she kicks, I need to pee."

Mark laughed, thankful he wasn't the one giving birth.

"She's got an attitude on her already," he joked, winking at his beautiful wife.

"Of course, look at who her father is," she shot back, just as cocky as her husband.

He smiled, watching her play with her hair, closing her eyes and basking in the sunshine. His smile grew as the breeze blew her hair around. It reminded him of someone else, except her hair was black and she terrified him as much as she excited him. They had done so much together in the years they had known each other, but he hadn't seen her in about two years. Not since he'd made the deal that made him her protector. That was a story and a half.

The afternoon dragged on; he and his wife relaxed and soaked up the sun, making jokes and feeding their horses. Zeus, their English Mastiff, came out to play and chased rabbits around the field, causing the happily married couple to laugh and remember that the day was beautiful and life was magical.

By the time the sun set, they were exhausted. Mark decided to have an early night, as he hadn't been sleeping well lately. He was constantly plagued with images of Lady Serenity, the Goddess he had sold his soul to decades ago, when he was still just a child. He was happy that he knew her; she had made his life so much weirder than he could ever imagine, but in a good way. It was hectic and crazy but he wouldn't have it any other way. Most recently, though, whenever he closed his eyes he saw her in situations he didn't want to see her in. Bloody, bruised and beaten, curled up in pain or pulled apart and thrown around her suite in the Amethyst Palace. It was torture, plain and simple. He jerked himself awake every time she screamed for him.

He wanted to go to her, but he knew he couldn't. If she didn't summon him, he was unable to flame out and appear before her. He had tried, but he'd been bounced back with a warning from Hades, one of her many minions and Lord of the Underworld.

 _She does not require your assistance, guardian. Remain in Purgatorio until you are called._

It was reassuring, but the nightmares persisted and Mark remained worried. Michelle could tell; she knew of his oath to protect Serenity, but she didn't know the nitty-gritty details involving his affair. It was best if she didn't know; it would cause trouble that he just didn't need. He loved his wife, no doubt about it, but he had made a promise to the High Queen of Hell, one he intended to keep.

Curled up in bed, his arm wrapped around the shoulders of his wife as she slept peacefully beside him, Mark stared at the ceiling. The Grandfather clock in the hallway ticked loudly as the seconds went by, reminding him that he was still in Purgatorio and still far away from his Queen. He turned his head, looking out the window at the twinkling stars in the night sky. They blinked silently, beautiful and constant. It was a beautiful night, one he wished to sleep through. But sleep hadn't found him much in the last few weeks. Serenity's face kept plaguing his mind. He couldn't stand to see her battered and bruised; it caused his heart to pound viciously in his chest, harder and harder until he thought his ribs might fly apart and his heart launched from him. That in itself didn't worry him; what worried him was not being able to get to her in time. True, his teleportation took seconds, but those were seconds he could not afford to lose if something were to happen to her.

Mark turned his head to face the floor-length mirror hanging on the closet door. It was a wide mirror, enough for Michelle to be able to check out her entire body and pose to make sure whatever outfit she was wearing was suitable. He found his blood running cold again.

In the mirror, strapped to a chair and bleeding from her lip, was his Queen. Her dark hair had been cut short and she wore a halter neck gown. She raised her head, looking at Mark. The area around her eyes was bruised but that wasn't the image that made his heart almost stop; it was the fear and anguish in her eyes. The silver pools were bright and bloodshot. Her lips moved as she tried to whisper something to him, but a large hand covered her mouth. It was a shadow, not unlike some of the demons Mark had killed before. The face of the owner was completely devoid of detail and life, but he could see the pure white of teeth as its lips spread into a wide grin.

The thing that terrified him most about the image was the fact he was awake. He hadn't fallen asleep, he would have jolted awake again if he had. He was seeing the scene play out live and in vivid color, causing him to gently remove Michelle's arms from around him and flame out.

Mark appeared in the Crystal Garden, in his official Guardian attire; a floor length black skirt with a mammoth silver belt in the shape of a scorpion. He was bare chested, two black bands curled tightly around his biceps. He looked around; the Garden was exactly as it was the last time he'd been there. The trees sparkled in the artificial light, sending bolts of color around the area. In the center of the courtyard was a white marble table with two matching chairs pushed underneath it. He took in a deep breath; he could smell brimstone in the air, but also lilac and rose. He blinked, scanning the area. The place was devoid of life, but he could hear soft humming coming from further into the Garden. He followed the sound, hoping it was his love, or one of her attendees that could help him find her.

He reached a small clearing and stopped mid-step. Standing on a wooden ladder, reaching up to pick something from the trees, was Lady Serenity in all her glory. She was wearing a red, V-neck t-shirt and a pair of black overalls, her lower back-length hair pulled into a braid at the nape of her neck. She looked beautiful, even if she was looking more human than anything. Below her, holding up the ladder she stood on, was a dark-skinned woman with long red hair. She stood with her back to him, her head raised to watch Serenity. He didn't take much notice of what she was wearing, only that she had a barbed tail sticking out from under her skirt. Definitely a demon.

He smirked, allowing himself to take in his beautiful Serenity for the first time in two years. She was still as beautiful as ever, though now she looked a lot happier. The last time he'd seen her she had been hiding her fear of hurting him. Now that they were a couple, she didn't have to worry about hurting him.

"Overalls suit you, Ren," he called, watching as she jerked back to look at him. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped open in shock. He could see a tiny silver stud on her tongue.

The demon at her feet had taken a defensive stance and was snarling at him. By her appearance, she was a lower level pain demon, barely a match for the self-proclaimed Lord of Darkness. He grinned at her and raised his hand. Black flames erupted in a circle around her, slowly growing smaller. She hissed viciously and attempted to slash at her fiery prison to no avail. Once her claws had broken through the ring, it flickered once and then tightened around her, causing the demon to screech. He looked up at Serenity, only to find she had fallen to the ground in shock. He grinned and raised his hand, lifting the demon into the air and hanging it by the collar from a tree, walking passed the step ladder and offering Serenity his hand. She stared up at him, drinking him in.

"M-my Markus?" she whispered, her head tilting slightly. He smiled when she took his hand, feeling her dainty fingers curl around his.

"I'm here, my love."

The grin that spread across her face lit her up like a firework on the Fourth of July and she leaped into his arms, curling her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. He breathed her in, feeling the warmth radiate from within himself. Sometimes, home has a heartbeat, and his true home was with her, bowing to her every whim and sharing their world together. When he held her, everything melted away; worrying about Michelle and their baby, wondering what his scattered children were up to, curious as to how his brother Kane's life was going. Nothing mattered right now, nothing but her wrapped around him and their hearts finally beating as one again.

Mark placed her back on her feet and put his hands on her waist, keeping her close. She reached up to touch his face, assuring herself he was real. He leaned down and bumped his forehead against hers, breathing her in. He was finally home.

Serenity's fingers gently grazed his cheek as she rubbed her thumb just under his eye. He opened his eyes and smiled down at her, drinking her in.

"My love, what are you doing down here? I did not summon you," she mused.

His smiled faltered. That was true, she hadn't called for him. But the image he had seen in the mirror was still burned into his eyes, fueling the fires in him to protect her. He closed his eyes quickly and turned away, hiding the painful image from her. She wasn't as stupid as he thought she could be and she turned him back to face her. He forced his eyes open and blinked at her. Her eyes were a deep silver, concern darting between them like a sly rabbit evading a fox.

"What is it, my love? What have you foreseen?"

He needed to distract himself with something, anything, so he turned to the demon in the tree. She was struggling to get herself down, squirming around to try and wiggle free. He smirked at her. She hissed at him. She had sharpened canines and a black tongue. He couldn't see her face under her swirl of dark hair, but her eyes glowed a deep red under her fringe.

"I thought you hung around with Hades and Persephone, Ren. Why would you be with a pain demon?" he asked, looking down at Serenity. She smirked, knowing he was avoiding the question. She sighed and uncurled her arms from around his neck, walking back over to the screeching demon.

"I'm sorry, Lady Iremia," she cooed apologetically. Serenity raised an eyebrow at her. "I was not fast enough to protect you."

"I did not ask you to protect me, Levanica," the High Queen replied, snapping her fingers. The branch of the crystal tree Levanica had been hanging on snapped, dropping the sullen woman to the ground. She knelt at the Queen's feet, her eyes glued to the pavement beneath her. Serenity reached over and pat her on the head. The demon looked up at her. "I asked you to assist me in keeping the Garden pleasant and beautiful while Persephone is away. It is not your job to protect me." She grinned, turning back to face Mark. "It is his."

Mark smiled and reached up to place his hand over his heart, bowing his head in respect. Well, it appeared to be respect; he was being smug. It was his job and his job alone to protect her; she didn't trust anyone else to do it.

"At your service, as always, your grace."

Serenity grinned at him, but the grin disappeared when she looked down at the lowly demon at her feet. "Return to the seventh circle."

Obeying her orders, Levanica threw Mark an aggravated look before ripples started to appear in the air around her. Once the shimmering had settled down, she was gone and he was once again left alone with his Queen.

Before he had a chance to react, Serenity's fingers were curled around his and she was pulling her towards him. He smirked down at her.

"I can't keep anything from you, can I?"

The grin she gave him made her look like a cheeky school girl and all he wanted to do was tickle her until she collapsed.

"No, and you would be very silly to try."

He felt himself smirking, a low rumble filling his belly. He was laughing. It was hysterical laughter, yes, but he was laughing. This entire situation seemed very stupid, now that he thought about it. Had he been so desperate to see her that he'd convinced himself she needed him? Had he put the image in his own head to give him a reason to appear at her feet once again? She was here, alive and well, and now he felt very stupid for thinking himself into Hell, literally.

"I am, but I was worried about you," he admitted, sheepish grin on his face.

Her brow furrowed and she gave him a curious look, her head tilting again.

"What reason do you have to be worried about me?"

He shook his head, looking away from her. She took his hand and led him through the garden, back towards the palace. The walk calmed him; he was here with her, and she was safe and well. He could still smell lilac and roses wafting through the trees, calming his still-rigid nerves. The images still danced in his head, but physically holding Serenity's hand brought him back to reality; they were together and it would take the Apocalypse to tear them apart.

By the time they had reached the throne room, Serenity had changed from her gardening clothes into a beautiful gown. It was a halter-neck dress, black in color, which hung down to just above her knees in the front, but flowed down passed her ankles at the back. She wore strappy stilettos on her dainty feet. Curled around her waist was a thin, silver chain that hung down passed her thigh. At the end of the chain hung a scorpion, much like the belt he wore. Her hair had curled itself into a bun high-atop her head, beads threaded through it. She uncurled her fingers from his and stepped up to the immaculate throne. It was an onyx throne with a red velvet cushion on the seat. Two smaller versions sat next to it, a young man sitting in the one to her left. He was tall, from what Mark could tell, with pale skin and short, spiked, white-blonde hair. A single ginger streak hung down his fringe, making his hair look even paler than before. He was reading an old, leather bound book, a bored expression on his face.

When Serenity took her place on her throne, he raised his head to look at her. He had piercing silver eyes, with a slight green tinge to them. He looked quite a lot like Serenity.

"Come now, Blakius," she cooed, sitting down on her throne and throwing her legs over the arm rest on the opposite side. The male raised an eyebrow. "What literature could you be reading that has caused your unsatisfied expression?"

"To Kill a Mockingbird," Mark interjected before the blonde could respond, instantly recognizing the tiny bird on the cover. He looked up at the young man, smug smirk on his face. The blonde raised an eyebrow and closed his book, the thump echoing around the near-empty hall.

"Indeed, Guardian," he replied, his voice dripping with condescension. Mark raised an irritated eyebrow, his gaze darting to the queen. She had an amused grin on her face.

"I believe some introductions are in order," she mused, curling a loose strand of her fringe around her finger. "Markus, this is Blakius, crown prince of Caina."

Blakius bobbed his head in Mark's direction, standing from his seat. His face remained neutral as he turned to the Goddess beside him.

Mark's head had started swimming by this point. There was three options here that were all plausible. One, Serenity had had an affair with another God, thus spawning a child. Incredibly likely, considering the natures of Gods.

Two, he was Hades and Persephone's child. Not incredibly likely, if what he knew of Hades and Persephone was true. She wasn't the type to actively want children, and despite Hades' dickish nature, he wouldn't force it on her.

Three, and this was the one he was most terrified of, Blakius was his child. It made sense, given the fact he looked to be an exact blend of both himself and Serenity. Her pale skin, his height. Her blonde hair, his ginger hair. Her silver eyes, his green eyes.

It was this realization that caused the Deadman to drop to his knees, staring up at the love of his life. She looked down at him, sympathetic smile on her face, her head slightly tilted to the side.

"I guess, as the saying goes, the cat is out of the bag?" she asked quietly, swinging her legs back over the side of her seat and stepping down to him, resting her hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her.

"Which time?" he croaked. They had consummated their union many times, twice the night he became her guardian despite the amount of pain he'd been in, so this was incredibly confusing to him. Serenity's smile softened even more, giving him the answer he needed.

Blakius had been conceived the night Mark had arrived in Hell and demanded his soul back. The night she had stolen his immortality from him to see him in the flesh one last time before she stole his soul from him. They'd spent hours making love to each other, and somewhere along the lines Blakius had been created.

Blakius himself stepped down from his throne and stopped in front of his would-be father, crossing his arms over his chiseled chest. He was tall, just as Mark assumed, but he was also slender. He had muscles, yes, but he was lean and fit. He was wearing a long white trench-coat with several silver buckles, a pale blue V-neck shirt and white jeans. His combat boots reached up to the middle of his calves, showing off his toned leg muscles.

"So," he all but growled. Mark stood, eyeing his estranged son. He had a very irritated look on his face. "You are my father."

"Trust me, this is weird for me too," Mark replied, slight squeak to his voice. He straightened his shoulders to appear confident. He was speaking to his son after all, and he needed to show him that he was in charge, even if he had been thrown for a loop. Blakius merely raised an eyebrow. Mark turned back to Serenity.

"Where did the name Blakius come from?"

"Our son was born with ice in his veins. It is a play on the word glacier. Well, Glacius, the original lord of the Ice Domain we have down here," she replied, her gaze darkening as she looked over Mark's shoulder.

Mark turned and instantly groaned aloud, trying to hide his disdain for the God who had just entered the throne room.

The dethroned God of the Underworld swaggered into the room as if he owned the place, his head held high and his shoulders proud. He looked as dignified as ever, his long white hair pulled back in a half-pony tail, sporting his armor as usual. Under his arm was his helmet, silver and strong. It had bull horns attached to the top, a black gem situated between the two. Mark couldn't help but notice the terrified look in his eyes. He was proud, yet afraid of something. At the sight of Mark, Hades growled.

"What in the sixth circle of Hell is he doing here?"

Serenity stepped between her son and lover, holding a hand to Mark's chest, as if to stop him from attacking the wayward God. He merely smirked. His Goddess glared daggers in Hades direction, her eyebrow raising.

"It is of no concern of yours why my Guardian is here," she retorted, quirking an eyebrow at him. Hades stopped short, dropping to a knee. Mark couldn't help but laugh at how condescending his lover could be. She ruled her domain with an iron fist, ready to smite those who crossed her. He had to admire her style.

"I apologize, your grace," Hades mumbled, looking up to maintain eye contact with the Queen. She raised an eyebrow and beckoned him forth. He stood and walked over to the throne, standing beside Mark, bowing his head to Serenity, more out of fear than respect.

Blakius eyed him closely, keeping a close watch on the God. Hades merely smiled at him.

"I notice you are without my sister, Hades," the blonde God mused, the corners of his lips curling upwards into a smirk. "Once again you have failed to do your job."

"My job was to run this place before your mother cheated it from beneath me. Know your place, brat," Hades growled in return, immediately flying backwards as Mark's fist connected with his jaw.

He slid across the Palace floor and stopped just before the doors he had come through, kneeling and heaving. By the time he had stopped, his chest plate had melted away and his great sword had appeared in his hand. Granted, he hadn't expected Mark's punch, he had incredibly fast reflexes and was ready to attack within a few seconds of being assaulted. He looked at Mark and his eyes flashed with fear briefly.

"I dare you to insult my son again."

Hades spluttered, his eyes darting to Serenity. Mark could hear Serenity giggling behind him, obviously amused at this whole thing. Mark's eyes had become black at the mere idea of someone insulting his child, his vicious rage taking over very briefly. Hades was lucky to still be in one piece. Mark's eyes faded back to their usual green and he looked at Serenity.

"Hades, why are you without Princess Brookai?" she asked, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. Mark watched as Hades gulped, obviously terrified of the answer he was about to give. Serenity raised an eyebrow and stepped closer to him, a sense of purpose radiating from each step. He chose to stay silent, choosing against telling Hades he was a worthless little twerp who didn't deserve to be in the presence of the Goddess of Bargaining and Judgment.

Hades took a step back from the Queen, his gaze dropping to stare at the floor. His arm reached behind him to cup his other forearm from behind and he couldn't keep eye contact with the clearly angry Serenity.

"Where is my daughter?" she asked, venom dripping from her voice. Hades looked up to peer at her and the color drained from his face. Blake snickered from beside Mark.

"She... she was not in her room when I went to retrieve her, and nowhere else in Ignis Infernalis."

Before Mark had time to even blink, Serenity had raised her hand and used her magic to lift Hades into the air, constricting him. It wasn't the first time Mark had seen her do this. When he'd arrived in Hell after having his immortality taken from him, Hades had jumped to the Queen's defense against him, only to realize that by touching Mark, Serenity's rage had been set free, causing her to tear the God apart, his innards painting the walls of the throne room before he'd pulled himself together again.

Serenity shot her arm out, throwing Hades clean across the throne room and into the wall.

"That girl has been a thorn in my side for far too long, now," Serenity seethed, turning once again to face her lover and son. Her eyes had become that pitch black Mark hated to see; it showed him she wasn't as mortal as she appeared most of the time. Her anger had spiked and nothing anyone could say would calm her down.

Mark tilted his head, the adrenaline rush from before fading away, allowing the realization to finally dawn on him.

"I have a daughter too?"

Blakius burst out laughing beside him, holding his sides for good measure. Serenity's eyes faded back to their beautiful silver hue and she let out a giggle, tilting her head to the side as she covered her mouth, her other hand holding onto her side as she joined her son. Mark rolled his eyes; of course they were laughing at him. Due to some stupid rule of thumb, he had been barred from entering the Underworld unless he was called, how in the Nine Layers of Hell was he supposed to know he and Serenity had conceived children? They were acting like he was a moron and should have known these things.

"I am sorry, my love," Serenity breathed, finally finding some composure. Mark raised an eyebrow. "I forgot you have not been around enough to know."

"In the three conversations we've had since I became your Guardian, you couldn't have found the time to let me know?"

"Things have been rather hectic down here," Blakius answered, crossing his arms over his chest. Mark couldn't help but grin at him; he was definitely his child. The way he held himself reminded him a lot of his daughter, April. She was head strong and stubborn, traits she had picked up from him.

"Besides," Serenity added, taking Mark's hand as she grew close to him. "I would rather have told you in person, to spare you the burn of the informal announcement."

"So keeping it from me until I saw you was the way to go about it?"

Serenity tilted her head, deciding to avoid the question all together.

"Regardless, we do have a problem. Brookai has asked me several times if she can venture to the human world to meet the rest of her family, her siblings mostly, and I have not allowed this. She is still too young to explore the world above as she would her world. We have a strict code of conduct that she must adhere to. It is this that has caused her departure."

Mark smirked. "She sounds a little too much like her mother."

Serenity grinned and bat her hand against his chest. "Blakius, though younger than his fiery counterpart, is also still too young."

"I would be able to track her no matter where she is, mother," the young God interrupted, clearly annoyed about a prior conversation he and his mother had had. "In addition, I would be able to blend in with the mortals better than she can."

"Clearly," Mark mused sarcastically, his eyebrow raised at his son. "The formal speech will give you away almost immediately. If Brookai has disappeared to Purgatorio to see her family, there is a large cluster of them in Los Angeles, or at least close to it. She has a sister and brother in L.A, and a sister in Las Vegas. They're not very hard to find as Gunner is obnoxiously famous, and April is married to someone who is obnoxiously famous."

Mark smirked as his son rolled his eyes, returning to his throne. He couldn't help but admire the drive Blakius had for finding his sister, but he also understood Serenity's reservations about the idea; he was still very young and hadn't been to the human world before. It would be difficult for him to blend in, considering his snow white skin and pale blonde hair, but at the same time he probably had the ability to change his shape to look more human. It was just the speech that he had to get a handle on. If he walked up to a random stranger and asked for directions it would probably begin with 'Excuse me, M'lady, could you direct me to the nearest tavern?' No, Mark would go. Plus he knew his way around the Los Angeles area enough to know some hot-spots that radiated psychic energy. The Star de Lune was built right over one, in fact, and was owned and operated by April, so he would start his search there.

"Your grace," Mark said with a bow, causing Serenity to quirk an eyebrow at him. "If I may, I will begin my search upon my return to Purgatorio." He reached for Serenity's fingers and brought them up to his lips, gently kissing her knuckles. She smiled sweetly at him and bobbed her head.

"Very well, my Guardian. Please keep me informed, I wish to know her whereabouts as soon as you find her," she insisted, her royal demeanor returning. She was back to being the Queen Bitch he knew her to be. He grinned, bowing his head.

He then realized that Hades was growling near the door way, sulking as if he'd been shunned. Mark straightened his back, walking with purpose towards the still-open doors that lead to the crystal caverns. Hades scowled as Mark stopped beside him.

"What on Earth could be your trauma to want to be her Guardian?" he asked, eyebrow raised. Mark smirked, poking Hades in the chest plate. Where his finger had been was a smoldering orange dot that faded as quickly as it had sprung up.

"That's none of your business, Hades. I know my purpose, can you say the same?"

Hades jaw dropped open as Mark disappeared into the courtyard, smug smile on his face. He felt better, despite his first official mission as Serenity's Guardian being what it was. He thought he would have to protect her from a horde of vengeful demons, not go on a fetch quest, but he would do as he was told, retrieving his wayward offspring and returning her home before anything happened to her, or she spilled the world's most well-kept secret to someone she shouldn't.

He sighed. As he stopped on the bridge that lead to the portal that would send him home, he turned to face the Amethyst Palace. It shone with like a beacon in the darkness that surrounded it. It hung high over a pit of molten lava, causing it to glow with fire. He could see shadows flickering from the flaming columns that lined the walkway towards the entrance. The entire thing was surrounded by a large crystal wall, circular, that hid the castle away from prying eyes. The bridge he was standing on was directly in front of the main gate, allowing him entrance to the Palace and to Caina itself, the domain of his queen.

He turned back to face the portal and thought of his ranch back home. Michelle was probably worried sick about him. Time hadn't stood still when he'd left, and Serenity wasn't returning him home so he would return to a time he hadn't been around to witness. Perhaps Michelle was sitting in their kitchen with a hot coffee, keeping herself awake until he returned. Her sister was probably with her, keeping her company until they were reunited once more. He would call her as soon as he arrived in Purgatorio, letting her know that he was okay. He didn't want her to worry.

Mark took a deep breath, savoring the burn of sulfur and brimstone on his tongue, and stepped into the portal.


	3. Chapter Two: The City of Angels

Chapter Two: The City of Angels

It was a quiet night in L.A; only a few cars sped past as the hooded figure eyeballed the club in front of him. It was a dark stone building with strobe lights on the roof and a large archway entrance. A bouncer rested lazily against the wall, his hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his jacket. Above him was the neon lighting that showed the name of the club he was staring at; The Star de Lune. It was one of the most popular clubs in the Los Angeles area, raking in millions of dollars, even after a fire had torn it down the year before. It wasn't open yet, the owners still needing time to get everything sorted, but he had business there he needed to attend to, and the Star de Lune had been his meeting place of choice before it was closed.

He stepped into the street, narrowly avoiding a car as it sped past, blaring its horn. He felt his lips curl into a smirk as he stepped up to the front door.

"Evening, Seth," he mused to the bouncer, slightly altering his voice. Seth stood up, squaring his shoulders with the newcomer.

"Evening. We're closed tonight, man, you'll have to move along."

He removed his hood and smiled up at the bouncer. Seth's eyebrow rose.

"James, you know they don't want you here."

James rolled his hazel eyes and slipped a fifty into Seth's pocket, making his way into his favorite club. He could hear Seth muttering something about regret as he stepped through the double doors and through the black-lit archway. The laces on his shoes glowed white as he walked. It wasn't a very long walk, but the end of the tunnel opened into the main club, beads hanging from its entrance. He pushed them aside, observing the people in the room, his eyes instantly falling to the black haired woman behind the bar, polishing glasses. Her hair, he knew, reached to just below her tail-bone and was streaked with purple. She had tattoos covering most of her torso and arms, showing she had a high tolerance for pain. She was chatting to someone by the bar, a blonde haired girl. The girl was wearing a bright green, off-shoulder singlet, a jet black mini-skirt, fishnet tights and knee-high leather boots. He walked over, making sure his face was uncovered and his shoulder-length black hair was tied back.

"That's so not fair," the blonde whined, dropping her head to the bar. The black haired woman smiled softly and ruffled her hair.

"I'm sorry, kiddo, but I'll lose my liquor license if I let you be a bartender, plus I'd also be facing jail-time."

The blonde's head shot up.

"Can I wait tables in the restaurant when it opens, then?"

"Nope. That involves serving wine to customers. Face it, Hailie, you're barking up the wrong tree if you want a summer job."

Hailie flopped back onto the bar, obviously deciding not to argue anymore. Her mother turned to James as he slid into a stool beside Hailie and grinned mischievously at her. She scowled, leaning forward on the counter, arms crossed at the elbows. James leaned forward so he had a clear view of the moody bartender.

"All I did was sit down, April."

April reached forward and grabbed James by the collar, pulling him towards her. They were almost nose to nose. James couldn't help but grin more at her; she'd never liked him.

"What the fuck are you doing in my club, Landau?"

"Meeting a client here," he replied coolly, adjusting himself so his hoody wasn't strangling him. "Don't worry; I won't hit him if he doesn't hit me."

"Why do I not believe you?"

"Believe what you want, Calaway; all you gotta know is I'm just doing a job."

April growled, her eyes narrowing as she let him go. He smirked, reaching into his backpack and retrieving his water bottle, keeping his eyes on April as she moved around the bar. It didn't really surprise him that she didn't want him here. The last time he'd used the Star de Lune to meet with a client it had ended in a fist fight of epic proportions. Several people, including himself, had left the club with a black eye and dislocated fingers. He didn't normally start fights; James was always the type of person to be dragged into them and finish them. It wasn't a weekly occurrence though; his meetings were usually brief and pleasant, with no casualties. It could get heated, of course, as most conversations can, but James was a seasoned expert at defusing explosive situations.

James smirked as April returned to the bar, shooing her daughter away.

"Any problems at all and I'll have Seth break both of your legs, understand?" she threatened, jabbing a dainty finger in his direction. He grinned, bobbing his head once.

"You have my word, and my word is my bond."

April rolled her eyes as she walked away. This allowed James to swivel in his seat and look around. In the original club, there had only been one bar, but now there was two. The club had been renovated to accommodate more patrons, with a pair of bar tenders manning each bar. Between them was a large dance floor, a large disco-ball hanging from the roof. The stage was to his right, with an elevated platform for the DJ booth. The stage itself had a set of triple-bass drums, a keyboard and four microphones, perfect for when live bands played.

Hanging on the wall behind the stage was a huge black and red curtain, hiding the secret entrance into the upstairs loft. The loft was home to April's family, but he had never been up there. She hated him with every fiber of her being, but he didn't mind. It's not like he wanted to be friends with them at all, but being on speaking terms with the club owner was more useful than anything else; it allowed him to operate in her club without being shot out of a cannon into the sun at her slightest whim. He'd been to the roof before, but that was a separate entrance all together which took him far away from the house.

Next to the stage was a staircase which led to the VIP loft. His eyes trailed up the spiral staircase to the top where his client was standing, his mammoth figure leaning over the railing to observe the few people in the club. James replaced the cap on his water bottle, put on his hood and pulled up the balaclava that had been curled around his neck. Most of his clients hadn't seen his true face, which is the way he wanted it to be; anonymity was key to his job. He headed for the stairs, climbing up them two at a time. He was as silent as a cat, and when he reached the top he slipped into a seat at the back before his client had a chance to turn around.

When he did however turn, he took a step back and blinked, surprised to see someone sitting behind him. Then he smirked, stepping over.

"Good evening, Lasombra."

James bobbed his head once, indicating for the tall man to take a seat in the booth. He did, stretching his long legs underneath the table.

"What can I help you with today?"

The man raised an eyebrow, leaning back in the seat. James took a good look at him; he had long ginger hair, tied back in a pony-tail, and a red biker bandanna wrapped around his forehead. He had piercing green eyes, a narrow nose and a goatee. On his chest was a Megadeth t-shirt that looked incredibly faded. He was muscular, but lean; imposing, but relaxed. James had had dealings with his son-in-law before, but not this man particularly, but James knew exactly who he was. Mark Calaway wasn't exactly hard to forget once you saw him.

"Xander told me you're the man to see..."

James raised an eyebrow.

"For what?"

"For locating people who are incredibly hard to find."

James smirked and picked at the table-top, his boredom incredibly clear. On the inside, he was laughing. His public image was a bad-ass who could break someone's nose just by looking at them funny. He wasn't a bad guy, really, he just needed to appear to be mysterious. It kept people out of his business and away from him.

"It's part of the job description."

"I'm aware. So can you help me?"

James looked away, maintaining his aloof demeanor. He looked back at Mark and quirked an eyebrow.

"Who's the target?"

"I don't know much; she's my daughter that I've never met. She'd be new to town, she wouldn't know her way around and she'd be trying to find her siblings."

"Appearance? Name? You aren't giving me much to go on, here, Deadman, and there is only so much even I can do."

Mark smirked and leaned forward, keeping his voice low.

"Like I said, I've never met her. Her mother told me she'd run away and needs her back. I'll pay you however much money it takes for you to find her."

James leaned forward as well, eyeing Mark closely.

"Did her mother give you a name, or was she being vague."

Mark smirked and leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head.

"Vague is her specialty."

James rolled his eyes, leaning backwards. Of course this is how the conversation was going to go; he shouldn't have even agreed to this. It was bad enough he had to come back to the Star de Lune to meet this guy, but now he was giving him the single most vague and difficult job in the history of vague and difficult jobs. He had to find someone who had just arrived in town, with no name and no appearance to go by? It was like finding specific grain of sand in the Sahara Desert; next to impossible. Of all the things it could have been, it had to be this.

"She'll be pretty hard to convince to come home; apparently she's been adamant about leaving home for a very long time," Mark said, interrupting James' train of thought. He looked at the much older man and blinked, taking in what he'd said.

"I can be pretty convincing."

"It'll take patience this time, Lasombra."

James smirked under the balaclava and stood up, slinging the strap of his bag over his shoulder. He walked off towards the stairs, stopping as he reached them.

"Sometimes I pray for patience." He turned his head to face Mark who was lowering a glass to the table. "Sometimes I pray for a gun. I'll find her."

James caught Mark's confused blink before he sat on the banister of the stairs, using his impeccable balance to stay upright as he slid all the way down, stepping onto the bottom step and walking towards the main door. He turned his head, watching April closely as she stared at him from the stage, holding a duster in one hand, the other placed firmly on her hips. He smirked at her and disappeared out the door, deciding to begin his search for Mark Calaway's wayward offspring, however long that would take.

~X~

It was midnight when James arrived at the bus depot, his motorcycle coming to a stop near the front door. The Santa Monica Bus Depot was empty, save for the few junkies shooting up under the street lights and the night manager. Carlos Martinez had been a long time informant of his, knowing all the comings and goings of the desperate runaways that used Los Angeles as their 'clean slate'. It didn't really matter to James who he was looking for, all he knew was he had a job to do and Carlos was going to help him find the girl he was looking for.

Climbing off his bike and venturing up the stairs towards the office, he winced, feeling a burn around his wrist. He looked down at the wooden bracelet that had been around his wrist for the last few years. It was a plain looking bracelet; brown in color with three white circles with dots in the middle on each rectangular segment. Lines had been scratched into the top and bottom of each piece, making it a very unique piece of jewelry. He scowled down at it, shaking away the burn that was radiating up his arm and forcing his way into the office.

Carlos, with all the Latin charm he could muster, was flirting clumsily with a blonde girl. She looked shaky and nervous, like she'd come all the way to the city by herself and didn't know what the hell she was doing. James leaned against the door way and grinned, ignoring the burning throb in his arm.

"Please, sir, all I need is a place to stay. I do not require anything else," she all but whispered, fiddling with her fingers. James raised an eyebrow, observing the poor girl. She had waist length, platinum blonde hair, some of it pulled back into a pony-tail. She wore a red singlet shirt and a pair of faded Daisy Dukes, complete with a white woven belt. On her feet were a pair of worn in, red and white sneakers. She looked as lost as a puppy in a lion's den.

"A fine girl like you will need more than that," Carlos joked, reaching forward to touch the girl on the wrist. She pulled away, the white beaded bracelets on her wrist jangling as she moved. Carlos moved to intercept her as she backed away.

James knew exactly where this was going; Carlos was a colossal pervert, to the point of stalker tendencies. He had his uses, yes, but James would still not stand for anyone hurting such an innocent girl.

Slipping passed the girl, James dropped to his knees, swinging his right leg around. His leg collided with Carlos' ankles, causing the Mexican to fall face first to the ground, barely missing the corner of the coffee table in the center of the room. James stood, standing on Carlos' back to keep him pinned to the ground. The girl blinked her startling green eyes at him, taken aback by everything that had just happened.

"Excuse Carlos' rapey nature; he hasn't gotten laid in a long time," he mewled, grinning as his informant wiggled beneath him.

"Yo, èse, I wasn't gonna hurt her none, lemme go!"

James looked down at Carlos and grinned more, reaching towards Carlos' desk to retrieve his cigarettes. He pulled one from the pack and lit it before responding.

"Why don't I believe you, my Spanish speaking friend? You have been known to pursue the young ladies a little too enthusiastically."

"Jimmy, that was one time!"

"Doesn't matter, Martinez. I'm sure young..." He looked at the girl who was standing near the door, holding her hands near her throat as she watched. "What's your name, love?"

"B-b-Brooke," she stuttered, her voice barely audible. James nodded and looked back down at Carlos.

"I'm sure young Brooke doesn't appreciate your advances and would like to go home to a warm bed. So why don't you crawl back into the slime you climbed out of, hmm?"

He pressed against Carlos' back for emphasis as he stepped away, grabbing Brooke's hand before the fuming Mexican could get up and chase them out the door.

Brooke couldn't help giggling as James handed her his spare helmet and climbed onto the back of his bike. She curled her arms around his waist and held on tight as he kicked the stand up and pulled away from the curb, gunning his bike to life. It was getting too late to continue his search for his target, so he would drop Brooke at a hostel and call it a night. Or perhaps he would let her stay at his apartment with him, allowing her a safe haven until he found the one he was looking for. Hopefully she was as clueless as he thought she was and she wouldn't discover his nightly activities, or his darkest secret.

He just needed to keep her away from Willa.


	4. Chapter Three: The Lady by the Sea

Chapter Three: The Lady by the Sea

It was almost two in the morning when James and Brooke arrived at his apartment. They'd done a quick sweep of Santa Monica to make sure nothing was happening and then returned to the seediest part of the city. James slowed to a stop at the garage door that was beside Trip's Pawn Shop. The tunnel they came through led to upper Santa Monica, the nicer parts of the ghetto. Trip's was a worn down old building, its white paint chipping and weather-worn, enough to the point that Trip himself had placed a piece of corrugated iron over the T in the name so people could still read it. It gave the building a sense of style, if style meant a building that was falling apart.

The rusted garage door opened up and James' wheeled his bike inside, parking it beside Trip's old truck. The garage itself was filled with rusted tools, a cabinet that housed old junk and an old fashioned boiler that looked like it was going to burst at any given moment. The only thing remotely safe about the room was the CCTV camera in the far corner, keeping an eye on everything. Trip would most likely be in shop with his eyes glued to the camera feed, making sure James didn't do anything stupid.

James did what he usually did; dismounted his bike, removed his helmet and looked up at the red dot he knew was the camera, smirking and flipping it off.

Brooke, having dismounted the bike behind him and removed her helmet as well, tilted her head quizzically at her companion. James continued grinning, swinging his keys around his fingers.

"A friend of mine; he keeps thinking I'm gonna steal his shit because I pay him to let me put my bike in his garage. He's paranoid," he confirmed, offering his hand to the lovely blonde leaning against his bike. She took it as he led her out of the garage and into the completely baron streets of Santa Monica. They walked a few meters to the door of the pawn shop, stepping inside.

It was dusty inside the shop, and it smelt of rust and old metal. It was a smallish building, the center of the room being only a few meters wide. There was a U shaped counter around the room with a cage to stop thieves. The very center of the U had a smallish window in it, a metal fence over the top. An old padlock hung from its place, locked and not opening any time soon.

There was a man with short ginger hair sitting behind the counter, safely behind the cage, his feet up on the counter and a soda cup in his hand. He was short and incredibly twitchy. James grinned, knowing Trip hadn't heard him enter the building because he was still watching the CCTV footage.

"Evening, Trip," he cooed, causing Trip to jump into the air and fall out of his seat, bringing his soda cup with him. James burst into a fit of laughter as Trip poked his head over the counter top and glared at him.

"A-asshole," he stuttered, standing back up. His white shirt was now dyed a deep shade of brown and Brooke let out a giggle.

"Anything interesting happening in the Lady by the Sea?" James asked, leaning against one of the cages. Trip scowled, shaking his wet hair.

"O-other than a s-serial killer, n-not really," Trip replied, sitting back down in his seat. He scowled at James. James grinned right back, eyeing his former land-lord.

"I can see when I'm not wanted," he teased, pushing himself away from the cage and taking Brooke's hand again. "Come on, Brooke, let's leave Trip to his stalking."

Trip was about to shout a response but they left before he could muster the courage, deciding to just scowl after the two as they left his shop.

"Who was that?" Brooke asked as they walked down the sidewalk towards a massive blue-stone building with a billboard advertising the Pier on the side. James pulled his keys from his pocket and swiped a card on the plate on the wall. It beeped twice and blinked green, allowing them entrance into the building.

James waved his hand absentmindedly, opening his mailbox on the wall. It was empty so he snapped it shut and headed upstairs.

"That was Trip, the owner of Trip's Pawn Shop. He's a bit paranoid, considering his shop is open twenty-four seven, even on holidays, and he opened his shop in the middle of the crappiest city in LA County. No need to worry about him, love."

Brooke nodded and followed James into his apartment.

It was a beautiful three bedroom apartment with modern furnishings. It had high walls and floor to ceiling red stained glass windows. The carpet was a rich red and it accented the black walls perfectly. It was like stepping into a Gothic painting. A heavy-looking desk was positioned on the far right wall, a laptop sitting on it. A large, old-fashioned trunk was on the opposite side, locked and covered in dust. On the wall between the two windows was a large TV attached to what appeared be a surround sound system. There were two large speakers sitting next to a black cabinet underneath the TV and each corner of the room had an extra speaker. In front of the sofa was an oval shaped, glass coffee table with magazines stacked on top.

Sitting on the sofa with her legs crossed on the coffee table was a pale woman with dark curly hair. She had deep purple lipstick on her scowling lips. She was reading a news paper, completely engrossed by the article she was reading.

James tilted his head to read the front page article and smirked, putting his keys on the hook.

"You've been busy," he mused, gaining the woman's attention. She pivoted her head to look at them both, her eyebrow raised in curiosity. She had honey brown eyes, her steely gaze fixed on Brooke.

"Meaning?" she drawled, clearly not impressed by his antics.

James flopped down onto the sofa, gesturing for Brooke to take a seat anywhere. He pointed to the front article of the newspaper lazily, arching his shoulders against the plush of the sofa.

"Carnival of Death," he replied, reading the headline to her. She raised an eyebrow and rolled her eyes, closing the paper and folding it neatly on her lap.

"Our resident serial killer strikes again, James. You know better than to accuse me of such a gory scene."

"I figured it would be right up your alley, Willa."

Willa grinned, turning her head to look at Brooke.

The pure scrutiny in Willa's eyes made Brooke very uncomfortable. She could tell that Willa was wary of her and was on the defensive, probably about to ask a plethora of questions as to who she was and where she had come from, questions Brooke was not prepared to answer.

"And who might you be, little one?" Willa finally asked after observing the petite blonde for a few moments.

Brooke bit her lip, her nerves on show. She fidgeted in her seat, playing with the silver rings on her fingers. Willa sat back in her seat, placing her legs on the ground and eyeing Brooke. Willa radiated dominance, causing Brooke to think that maybe she was the unchallenged leader of her group of friends, a group that James appeared to be apart of.

She turned to face James, hoping he would help her out like he had before. He was leaning back in his seat, staring at the ceiling. He clearly knew this was coming.

Brooke turned back to face Willa, what little confidence she had fading away into nothing.

"My name is Brooklyn Static, but I prefer to go by Brooke."

"Noted," Willa drawled, standing from her seat. James' head jolted to peer at his friend.

"Calling it a night? Aw, the party has only just started." he teased, grinning mischievously. Willa smirked slightly then headed for the door.

When she'd opened the door, she turned to look at James over her shoulder.

"Stay safe, James."

The door snapped shut behind her and it grew quiet in the apartment for a while. Brooke didn't have the courage to speak up, still playing with her rings. She was still so nervous; the fact she was trusting James after he'd saved her from Carlos was saying something as he was just as much a stranger as Carlos was. He only seemed more chivalrous, it didn't mean he was.

"Well, that was a thing," the dark haired man finally chirped, swinging his legs over the side of the sofa. He stood and arched backwards, letting the tired muscles in his back stretch and pull. He felt his back pop and stood straight up, looking at Brooke. "You can stay in my spare room if you want."

Brooke smiled politely and stood, following James towards the hallway. He led her into a room that was modestly furnished. A wrought-iron, queen-sized bed was in the middle of the room, two side tables sitting beside it, the same design as the coffee table in the living room; black iron with a glass plate on top. Thick red drapes hung over the window, pulled open to show a beautiful view of the pier. The carnival lights glistened against the peaceful sea. A black chest of drawers was pushed up against the opposite wall and had a vase on top, a bunch of roses sitting inside it. There was a doorway beside the drawers, showing off the closet inside. Linen was folded neatly on the shelves.

"I hope the room is comfortable enough for you, it's been a while since I've had a guest," he pointed out, stepping aside so she could enter the room. He ran a set of fingers through his hair. She looked at him, cocking her head to the side.

"James, why are you helping me? You have only just met me, what is your motivation?"

James blinked, unsure how to answer such a loaded question. Why was he helping her? He could have dropped her off at a shelter like he was originally going to. Why did he bring her back to his apartment, not knowing a thing about her? She could be a liar and a thief, casing the place so she could rob it later. No, she couldn't be. He was an expert at reading people and she was definitely not a criminal mastermind. She was just a lost little lamb, searching for her flock. He'd been in her position before and he didn't want to see her get struck with what had happened to him.

"Because if I don't, nobody will," he finally replied, letting out a soft sigh. "LA is a big ship, and Santa Monica is the bitch steering the damn thing into a cliff. She can knock you overboard and leave you there if you're not careful. This town will chew you up and spit you out if you're here alone."

Brooke's head remained tilted and her expression as confused as before. James sighed again, walking over to the tall boy and retrieving a pair of red and white, flannelette pajamas.

"I'll show you what I mean tomorrow night. For now, get some rest."

Before Brooke could muster a response, James left the room, closing the door behind her and heading towards the living room.

The dark haired man flopped onto the sofa, leaning back against the plush cushions. He closed his eyes, imagining how his evening would have been if he hadn't taken Mark Calaway's job. He certainly wouldn't have bumped into Brooke at the bus station, and he probably would have been home sooner, typing out invoices and mailing threats to people who hadn't paid their fee. His routine had been thrown a little out of whack. Not that he cared, he needed a little spontaneity to separate the boring parts of his life from each other. He loved his job, no doubt, but it did become mediocre and boring sometimes, depending on the job.

He sighed again, getting up from the sofa and wandering over to his computer, blinking as the harsh light of the sunrise seeped through the window. It's pinkish glow lit up the room, reminding James to make today something unique. He smirked, knowing exactly what to do that day.

~X~

Brooke awoke from her deep slumber to darkness slowly creeping into her room. She sat up, peering out the window at the city. The lights at Pacific Park had begun to light up, the red and gold bulbs on the Ferris wheel stuttering into illumination. She could see the lights on the roller coaster as well, blinking on and off as the carts whizzed around the track. She yawned, leaning back against the pillows. She allowed her body to wake up before she moved, stepping down onto the floor. Something squishy and soft was under her feet. She looked down to see a pair of white bunny slippers. She grinned, slipping them onto her feet. They were soft and warm, warming up her chilly toes. She smirked and stepped out of the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

James was sitting at his computer when she entered the room. He was leaning back, his long dark hair hanging over the back of his seat. His arms covered his eyes as he swung back and forth on the seat. He looked adorably disheveled.

"Good evening," she mused, stifling a yawn as James looked up at her. He grinned, thin blue bruises underneath his eyes. He hadn't slept a wink.

"Evening. Sleep well?"

Brooke shrugged, taking a seat on the sofa, keeping her eyes on him. "I slept relatively well, all instances of insomnia considered."

James grinned more, his head jerking towards the door as someone knocked.

"It's open!" he called, swiveling his chair to face the door.

A young man, mid to late twenties, with short, mousy brown hair stepped into the room, carrying several bags and boxes with shop labels on them. He was wearing a white singlet with a green and white flannelette shirt over the top, unbuttoned, and a pair of blue jeans. Behind him was Willa, carrying a single bag around her wrist. She was modestly dressed, wearing a black singlet and skinny jeans. Her messy black hair was tied in a pony-tail, her fringe straightened and pushed to the side. She was typing something into her phone.

"Either you're planning on cross-dressing again," said the male, dropping the bags onto the floor and placing the boxes on the cabinet near the door, "or you have a female guest. Either way, we brought everything you asked for."

"Here," Willa drawled, shoving the bag into Brooke's face. Brooke blinked, startled by Willa's bluntness. She looked into the bag to find a small box.

"If you're going to be living with Jimmy, he needs to be able to contact you," the male said coolly, flopping onto the sofa. He smirked when Brooke looked at him, her eyebrow raised in confusion. "I'm Daniel, by the way."

"Hello," Brooke murmured, her face stuck in confused. She looked back down at the bag and retrieved the box, finding a cellphone printed on the cover. It was a relatively newer model, black and sleek. Inside the bag was a shiny red cover with diamantes on it in a checkerboard pattern.

She looked over at James who was grinning at her, hands folded on the top of his head as he bobbed back and forth in his chair. His eyes were filled with mischief, he'd obviously been planning something all day while she'd been asleep. He cocked an eyebrow at her and stood, bowing slightly.

"You're welcome for my generosity. However, it's not free," he mused, wandering over to his open apartment door. Before he closed it, another male entered the room, holding stacks and stacks of boxes. He had messy blonde hair and sharp brown eyes, his left eyebrow pierced, along with his bottom lip on both sides. Behind the stack of boxes, Brooke could see he was wearing a red, form-fitting t-shirt and tight black jeans.

James snapped his fingers, regaining Brooke's attention.

"Here's the deal, kiddo," he mused, retrieving his keys from beside his laptop. He began removing a deep purple key from his key-chain, explaining to Brooke exactly what was going to happen. "You can live with me until further notice, on the condition that you pay your own way. Which means rent, utilities and a security deposit."

Brooke blinked, her temper starting to bubble. Who was he to dictate how she lived her life? She had never asked for his help, never wanted it. He could have let her be at the bus station, she would have found her way somehow. Just because she was female didn't mean she couldn't look after herself.

James smirked, tossing the key to her. She caught it, scowling down at it and throwing it down onto the sofa. He rolled his eyes.

"Brooke, this town is not somewhere you want to be if you don't know where you're going," he lectured, stepping over to her. There was a pin drop silence in the room as he stood almost nose to nose with the blonde. She looked up at him, intimidated and slightly frightened. He was an imposing figure. He smirked down at her. "My name is James Landau and I'll be your chaperone this evening."

Brooke blinked up at the grinning figure before her and couldn't help but curl her lips into a tiny smile. He was incredibly adorable when he took charge, even if his over-inflated ego was taking pride-of-place at the forefront of his mind. Her gaze dropped to the curve of his lower lip, spying the two, thin, silver rings curled around it. She pulled her gaze away before the urge to bite them took over and she grinned up at him.

"I look forward to whatever you have planned this evening, James."

~X~

The walk from Santa Monica Arms towards Pacific Park was a long one, but the night was young and people were busy going about their business. The boardwalk was lit up with spot-lights and people were admiring the view of the ocean, its waves blurring out the reflection of the stars above. Brooke couldn't help but look around as she and James walked side-by-side towards the pier. Along the street they were walking down was a club called The Asylum, a twenty-four hour medical clinic, a diner called the Surfside Diner, a storage business called the Foxy Boxes and an old salvage yard. They were headed towards a double story parking garage that lead to the pier, a hot-spot in Santa Monica.

James wove his fingers around Brooke's and lead her towards the diner, rummaging in his pockets for his wallet. She had to admire his dress sense; he wore a deep blue, button up shirt, the top two buttons popped to show the black t-shirt underneath, a pair of worn black jeans and black sneakers. A leather jacket sat lazily around his shoulders to finish off the outfit. She looked up just in time to be dragged up a few stairs and into the diner.

It had a blue interior, as would any diner with a beach theme. There was a long bar in the center, with two doors behind it on either side that lead to the kitchen. At the bar were stools, some occupied, some not, but all incredibly worn. Around the outside walls were booths, two of them occupied. On the back wall near the bathrooms were payphones, one covered in an 'Out of Order' sticker.

Beside the door where they had walked in were several tough looking men, semi-automatic guns holstered in their pants. James smirked at them and walked up to the cashier, an elderly woman with her gray hair pulled into a tight bun. She wore a black shirt and a white apron. She didn't appear to like her job very much; she wore a scowl on her face that pulled the skin around her eyes to appear sallow and sunken in. She raised her eyebrow as James stepped up to the register.

"James, how can I help ya this evenin'," she drawled, her voice croaky from years of smoking. James handed her the coupon and grinned.

"Hello, Doris, my dear. I'll get a pair of flat-white coffees to go, thanks," he chirped, stifling a yawn.

Brooke covered her mouth to force the giggles back down her throat. Her immediate thought was that he needed to go back home and sleep, but she had a feeling that wasn't part of his agenda this evening. The mischievous sparkle was still in his hazel eyes. She couldn't help watching him as he chatted with the woman. He was relaxed yet focused; his shoulders were rigid, but he leaned against the counter with an air of arrogance. He ran his thin fingers through his hair, smiling as he did so. The sleeve of his jacket pulled down his arm, revealing a thick silver chain around his wrist. Between two of the links was a metal plate. The word 'Lucy' was engraved on it, in a loopy style. This piqued her curiosity, but she chose to ignore it. It was most likely the name of his girlfriend.

James turned back to her with a pair of Styrofoam cups, smile on his handsome face. She smiled and took one of the cups from him, following him out the door and back into the streets. It was warm against her fingers, heating up her still-tired body. She'd been restless for most of the night, scared of her new surroundings. The tiniest sounds jolted her from the light sleep she would fall into and cause her to wake up. It was the most horrible feeling in the world, being so sleep deprived. She needed to relax and enjoy her surroundings, as beautiful as they were.

The sound of the waves crashing at the pier woke Brooke completely as she and James wound their way through the underground parking lot. The main entrance to the pier had been closed off due to the homicide that had happened, known in the newspapers as Carnival of Death due to it taking place at Pacific Park.

James leaned his head towards Brooke as they stopped behind a pillar, sipping their coffees.

"One of the many reasons an information broker like myself will never be out of work," he whispered, nudging his head towards the two policemen talking behind the fence.

"I've seen a lot of shocking things in my time on the force, but that pier... that's the kind of thing that'd make you lose your faith in humanity." The first cop sounded very assured, as if he hadn't seen anything like what was apparently at the pier. Brooke tilted her head as she waited for the conversation to continue, slightly intrigued.

"I've gotta say, that's the second worst thing I've ever seen," the second cop replied, not as assured as his friend.

"Poor bastard down there was torn in two. By the looks of it, you'd think someone had tied him to two horses and raced them in opposite directions. What could you have possibly seen that's worse than what's down there?"

"It was about three years ago, up in Malibu; we found this guy on the beach. Looked like... I don't know... an animal attack."

"Shark attack?"

"No, I've seen shark bites, this was something different. Like whatever killed him knew what it was doing. The head was missing, the hands were missing and... and there were these slashes, but..."

There was a beat before the first policeman laughed.

"Bullshit."

"No, no man, the guy was literally slashed to ribbons. The worst part was, I was waiting for the meat wagon and the whole time I felt like someone was watching me."

Another snicker. There was a jingling sound as the second cop shoved the first against the gate leading to the pier.

"I swear on my badge today there was something just out of sight, man, and for a second I thought about running for the squad car and getting the hell outta there. To this day it makes me think of what else could be out there."

Dusting himself off, the first cop let out another full-bellied laugh. James smirked as he watched them.

"Maybe it was a werewolf?" The cop let out a howl to emphasize his point. His partner groaned and shoved him back against the gate. "Or maybe a vampire."

"Forget it, you ass. This is why you didn't get invited to Hernandez's wedding, Ted."

The conversation switched to a softer topic as James led Brooke back the way they came, heading back towards the main street. A light rain began as they made they way passed people in the street. By the time they arrived back at the apartment, it was pouring rain and they had to scramble to get inside so they didn't get wet. James shook his head, flinging tiny droplets of water everywhere. Brooke looked back out into the street as thunder rumbled.

"Thank the Gods we made it inside before it got too crazy out there," James said, grinning at her. She tilted her head as he checked his mail box. He removed an unmarked envelope and a few bills before closing it and heading up the stairs.

They reached the apartment and stepped inside, blasted by a wave of warm air. James flopped down onto the sofa flinging the bills onto the coffee table. He ripped open the unmarked envelope and emptied its contents into his hand; a clip of money and a small card.

"'Thanks for the help'," he read, his fingers playing with the money in his hand. "'As always, you were right and I should learn to trust you more. My boss is very happy. You'll find payment inside, plus tip. Thanks, Merc.' Another satisfied customer." James looked up at Brooke as she stood by the door, confusion written all over her pretty face. "What?"

"What exactly is an information broker?"

James smirked, sitting up and dropping the money on the table. He took a deep breath and looked up at her.

"People pay me large sums of money to find information, people... you name it, I can find it. I'm not good for much else. What I do is technically illegal as I'm not licensed." His eyebrow raised and he laughed. "I also double as a bounty hunter when work is slow."

Brooke nodded, gesturing to the door behind her. "And that trip to the pier?"

"To prove that Santa Monica, The Lady by the Sea, is not all she's cracked up to be. We have a serial killer on the loose, though it's not my job to find them. I went to the pier tonight to get information so I can stay away from them. I've dealt with killers before; if I stay out of their way, they stay out of mine. Survival of the fittest at its finest." He sighed and turned away, as if a memory had floated into his head and he was hiding his eyes from her.

Brooke felt the blood drain from her face at the mention of a serial killer. Had she chosen wrong in which city she moved to?

"Will I be safe here?"

James turned back to face her, his eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"What makes you think you won't be?"

"It's a little hard to feel safe in a city where killers walk free and the person you live with does illegal things just to make money," Brooke retorted, arms crossed and back against the wall. She raised her eyebrow at him. She shook her head, pushing herself away from the wall and heading towards to hallway to her room. "We're not friends, James. This partnership will be beneficial for both of us, but we're not friends." She turned to look at him over her shoulder. He had a confused look on his face as he sat on the sofa, watching her closely. "Tomorrow evening you will help me find a job, because I do not know my way around this city, and that will be the end of it."

James was about to open his mouth to reply but the door shut before he could. He blinked.

What the hell kind of person went from curious to fearful to demanding to downright bitchy in less than five minutes?

Brooke was definitely going to need a reality check.


	5. Chapter Four: The Opheliac Within

Chapter Four: The Opheliac Within

By the time Brooke woke up, the sun had come and gone, leaving her wondering what day time in Los Angeles was really like. She'd been in the city for almost two straight days but hadn't even been in the sun. Now she was completely awake and it was dark. Perfect.

She wrapped the robe James had bought for her around her, tying the cord around her waist as she walked down the hallway into the living area. James was nowhere to be seen. Normally he would be awake and sitting on his laptop, but he wasn't around. The pierced blonde from the night before was, however, and he was sitting in the living room with what looked like a jigsaw puzzle. His mouth was scrunched as he maneuvered the piece around the table, trying to find it's proper place.

"Hello?" Brooke said, drawing his attention. He grinned up at her.

"Hey, sorry if my grumbling disturbed you. This puzzle is too damn hard," he said.

Brooke smiled. It had been a long time since she'd had a pleasant conversation that wasn't condescending in one way or another. This was a nice change of pace.

"You didn't disturb me." Brooke sat down beside the blonde and pulled her legs onto the sofa, curling into a ball. The blonde smiled back at her and tapped her on the knee.

"I realize you and I weren't introduced yesterday because James is actually an asshole," he mused, playful glint in his eye. Brooke quirked an eyebrow. He smiled, the light of the chandelier above him shining from his lip piercing. "I'm Sam."

"Brooke. It's a pleasure to meet you, Sam," she replied, relaxing a little. He seemed cheerful and friendly, very different to the up-tightness of Willa and the bluntness of Daniel.

Sam smiled, just as thunder rumbled outside and rain started to pelt down.

"I feel so sorry for James and Willa," he laughed, lounging back in his seat. A lock of his golden hair fell in front of his eye and he blew it away, observing the confused look on Brooke's face. "They're out in the rain right now, chasing down a lead, and I can nearly guarantee neither of them brought an umbrella." He turned to the window as lightning flashed outside. "James is going to look and probably smell like a wet dog and Willa will look like a mop."

Brooke giggled, thinking the same thing. James never seemed to tie his hair back, so the rain would make him look like he'd gone swimming with his clothes on. Willa, on the other hand, probably spent hours making sure her curls were meticulous and bouncy, so the rain would not help. She could picture them sitting at the diner, arguing over how wet they were. The image brought a smile to her face as she let her head rest on the cushioned back of the sofa.

It was nice being in the house when James wasn't around, and Sam was a perfectly pleasant fellow, much nicer than Willa had been at least. Perhaps they could be friends.

Sam turned to look back at her and tilted his head to the side, eyeing her.

"You're the lost Princess, aren't you?"

Brooke's eyes widened as she stared at Sam, the smile on his face never faltering.

"How- how did you know?!" she spluttered, taken completely aback by his observation.

This was never supposed to happen. She was supposed to arrive in Los Angeles, find her family, meet them, live a human life for a little while and then return to Caina, all the more knowledgeable about the world she would one day inherit from her mother, the whole time maintaining the secret that she was in fact Brookai, crown Princess of Caina and future ruler of Ignis Infernalis. Her title meant nothing while she was living with mortals and that was the way she preferred it. She wanted her siblings to know who she really was, not the title she had been born with.

Sam's smile grew as he jerked around so he was facing her, excitement in his eyes.

"I have a way of knowing things," he said with a wink. Brooke swallowed back the string of expletives that was about to erupt from her mouth and nodded, allowing Sam to continue. "Don't worry, Princess; I won't tell anyone. Your secret is safe with me." He tilted his head, leaning a little closer to her. "Why did you run away? Queen Iremia has been looking everywhere for her wayward daughter; she even sent her Guardian out looking for you."

Brooke felt the color drain from her face. Her mother's Guardian. The man she suspected of being her father. He was out searching for her this very minute to bring her home. She wouldn't stand a chance against him; he had been imbued with the darkest powers her mother could muster, along with immortality. Her fire powers were nothing compared to the darkness his powers could create.

This realization caused Brooke to rest her head on her knees, hugging her legs close to her. Sam reached across and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Brooke, if you really want to hide away from your mother and her Guardian, there is a way."

Brooke's head shot up as quick as the lightning that flashed outside.

"Please, Sam, I don't want to go home yet," she pleaded, locking eyes with him.

Sam gave her a friendly smile and stood, walking across the room to the trunk under the window. She watched as he reached down and examined the heavy padlock that was keeping the trunk shut tight. He let out a sigh and turned to her, giving her a wry smile. He raised a hand and a minute later, a set of keys was held between his fingers. Brooke's eyebrow rose, a smirk crossing her lips.

"You're telekinetic."

The shrug Sam gave her made her laugh. The boyish-grin returned to Sam's face as he searched the key-chain for the key he was looking for. Finding the key, he turned back to the trunk and began fiddling with the padlock.

"Among other things, Princess. When I'm not being exceptionally lazy, I am also a master lock-pick."

There was a click and the padlock dropped to the floor with a clunk. Brooke winced at the sound and stood to stand behind Sam as he rummaged through what was clearly James' personal items that he didn't want shared.

Inside was a large black cauldron, a small stack of books and potion ingredients as far as the eye could see. Hidden in the lid of trunk was what Sam was apparently looking for; a small, black velvet bag, large enough to hold three stones which he poured into his hand. One of them was a dark purple color with a sliver of white, another was white with streaks of black. The third was light purple with flecks of gold and silver. They shone in the light as Sam moved them around his palm.

"James uses these crystals to keep his apartment safe from prying eyes," he explained, dropping them, one by one, into Brooke's open palm. She examined them.

"They're warding stones," she said after a moment. Sam nodded and closed the trunk, handing her the bag. He replaced the padlock and snapped his fingers, returning the keys to wherever they had been before.

"The effect is long range, and he has more around the apartment, so I'm sure he won't mind if these ones go missing." He laughed. "He never goes in this trunk, so I'm sure he won't notice they're gone."

Brooke smiled, feeling the power resonating from the stones as she slipped them into her pocket. They felt warm, even through the extra padding her dressing gown had.

Sam reached into his pocket and handed her a note.

"James told me to give you this before he left with Willa. Said you might be incredibly interested."

She smirked as he went back to his jigsaw puzzle, reading the note in James' messy handwriting.

 _Brooke,  
I've gone to do a few things around town with Willa. Chose her because she's the only one who's free. I would have asked you but you were asleep. I left Sam there to watch over you, not that you need it with that temper you've got.  
One of my contacts in Hollywood mentioned that the Star de Lune Nightclub on Hollywood Boulevard is hiring waitresses. It's a triple whammy job because the club is also a restaurant and cafe. Thought you might be interested, since you still owe me for letting you stay with me.  
I also spoke to another one of my contacts and got you a motorcycle. It should be sitting outside by the time you wake up. Sam will show you how to ride it.  
See you later on, I suppose.  
James._

Brooke blinked and looked over at Sam who was looking up at her.

"Apparently you can teach me to ride a Motorcycle?"

Sam grinned at her.

"Definitely."

~X~

By the time Brooke and Sam arrived at the Star de Lune, the line for entry wasn't very long. They pulled into the parking garage next door and walked outside into the streets. It had stopped raining in this part of Los Angeles, which meant there were large puddles everywhere. The urge to jump in them ran through Brooke but she decided not to. Water was not good with suede, and the knee high boots she was wearing happened to be made of the stuff. She'd decided to wear something casual, as casual as she could be at least, and was wearing black skinny jeans, a black camisole with a red fishnet shirt over the top, and a leather jacket. Sam had chosen to change into a pair of black slacks and a blue button up shirt.

When they stepped into the line, standing close together so they could go in at the same time, a man with black hair stepped out of the main entrance, standing next to the bouncer. He was looking over a clipboard, marking names off with a pen. Brooke swallowed hard. He was incredibly muscular and could probably snap her in two with out much thought. Was this her mother's Guardian? Had he tracked her down already?

"Don't worry," Sam said, reading her thoughts. She looked up at him. "That's Xander, he's the owner of the club. Tonight is an invitation only event, so he's probably just making sure everyone is on the list."

"Are we on the list?" she asked, keeping her voice low. They took another step forward.

"Not that I know of, but he's a friend of mine. I'm sure he'll let us in. Plus didn't James say they're looking for staff? Just mention that to him and I'm sure he'll be reasonable."

Another step forward. They were only a few people away from the entrance now, and Brooke took a good look at the owner. His hair was long, black with white tips, and spiked all over his head. He reminded her of a hedgehog. He was wearing a black t-shirt with a band logo on it, a band she'd never heard of; The Rejects. He wore black jeans and converse sneakers, making him look very punk. A silver chain hung from his neck, a silver feather hanging from it. On his wrist was a black sweatband with an 'R' on it. Even his finger nails were black. She raised an eyebrow; what an interesting outfit for the owner of a nightclub.

The group of people in front of them entered the club and Brooke stepped up to the velvet rope in front of them.

"Evening, Sammy," Xander said, smirking at the two. "Not with James tonight?"

"You know as well as I do that if James even steps foot near the club, April will pull out his tongue," Sam replied, bumping knuckles with Xander.

Xander's pierced eyebrow rose and he smirked. "Always count on you to be graphic." He turned his attention to Brooke, giving her a good once over. His eyes flashed with surprise before he smiled politely. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Brooke. She's new in town and was looking for a job. Apparently you've got a few going."

Xander rolled his eyes and turned to look into the club, his eyes glaring.

"Of course Cooper decided to spill the fucking beans about that." He sighed and unhooked the rope, allowing them into the club. "Head over to the cocktail bar and talk to April."

Sam winked at Xander and put his hand on Brooke's back, leading her into the club.

They stepped through a beaded curtain to find the dance floor packed with people, all dressed similarly to Xander. They wove their way through the sea of people to the bar on the left hand side, where a black haired woman was mixing drinks.

"You talk to April," Sam called over the music. Brooke looked up at him. "It'll look better if you talk to her face to face instead of having someone else do it. Just tell her why you're here and what kind of experience you have. I'll be in the booths under the VIP loft."

He pointed to where he was going to be. A large glass platform with rails was suspended from the roof, where a few people were sitting and laughing. A glass spiral staircase seemed to be the only way up, and it was being guarded by a very large man. Under the platform were booths, private spots for people to chat. Before she could respond, Sam was gone, weaving his way over to them.

Brooke sighed and turned back to the bar, watching the woman talk to someone through a door.

"Don't forget to clean every speck off the tables when we close up tonight, Storm," she called, yelling over the thumping music.

There was a muffled reply and the woman stepped back up to the bar, right in front of Brooke.

"You're new," she said bluntly, eyebrow raised. "How did you get in here?"

Brooke swallowed back the fear building in her throat and smiled.

"The hedgehog man let me in."

"Hedgehog-?" a grin spread over her face. "Oh boy, I wouldn't say that to his face, kid. Xander is very sensitive about his hair at the moment." She grinned and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the bar top. "What did he say when you came in?"

"That I needed to talk to someone named April about getting a job," Brooke replied, leaning a little closer so she didn't have to yell.

The woman raised her eyebrow.

"Well, you came to the right place at the wrong time." The smirk she gave Brooke was rather unnerving, but Brooke held her ground. "I'm April and, as you can plainly see, we're way too busy to be holding job interviews. Come back tomorrow afternoon and we'll see."

April went to turn away but Brooke grabbed hold of her arm. The older woman glared down at her.

"Please, if I don't get a job soon, my housemate will kick me out and I have nowhere to go."

"I didn't say I wouldn't hire you, kid," April said, point blank. She rolled her startling green eyes and continued glaring. "I just said we're too busy for it now. Come back tomorrow." She turned to walk away. "I swear that husband of mine is a moron."

Brooke looked down at her hands, watching them shake slightly. She wasn't normally intimidated, but April was the one in charge. The Star de Lune was essentially her kingdom, and she seemed to rule with an iron fist, much like her mother. She decided to cut her losses and walk away, heading back towards Sam.

Just as she was about to melt into the crowd, a hand grabbed her wrist and dragged her away. She looked up into the eyes of Xander who smiled sweetly at her. He led her to the table Sam was sitting at. Sam looked up as the two approached and scooted over so they could sit down.

"I take it it didn't go well?" he asked, watching Brooke sit down.

"April is a very intimidating person," Brooke said, slumping into the seat. It wasn't the most attractive pose, but it conveyed how she felt; small and insignificant.

"My wife has a habit of doing that when she's stressed out," Xander said, sitting next to Sam. "But Sammy here seems to have forgotten that I have just as much hiring power as she does, and since it's an invitation only event tonight, no one is going to come up and disturb us while I give you a job interview."

Brooke sat up straight as she stared at Xander, watching the smirk spread across his face. He could really help her?

"What do you need to know?"

~X~

James and Willa returned to his apartment just before sunrise, wet and covered in mud. The automatic heating came on as James removed his jacket and threw it across the room. Willa laughed at the grumpy look on her companion's face. In his dark blue hoody, leather jacket and tattered jeans, he looked more like a homeless man than one of the leading information broker's in the city. It didn't help that he didn't seem to mind the mud splattered on his jeans and up his shirt, or the dirty water he flicked around the room as he shook himself dry. Willa shook her head, removing her jacket and throwing it at him.

"What was that for?" he asked, removing his jacket and flopping down onto the sofa. Willa smirked.

"You dragged us through the sand and surf of Santa Monica beach to find... what exactly?"

"I thought she might have been there!" He hollered, throwing his head back in frustration. Willa sat down on the sofa next to him and rested her hand on his shoulder.

"Just because I like going to the pier after dark, doesn't mean the Calaway brat does."

James raised an eyebrow as she stood and walked to the front door.

"I'm going to lay down for a quick power nap before I do that favor for you. I hope you know I do this under immense protest."

James smiled, closing his eyes and throwing his head back.

"I know."

The door clicked shut as Willa left. Silence spread throughout the apartment, leaving James alone with his thoughts. The memories he'd buried long ago began to surface behind his eyes. Brown hair, freckles... an intoxicating laugh. Light brown hair, a smile that would have broken so many hearts...

He sat bolt upright, eyes forced open before the memories manifested fully. He hunched forward, raking his fingers through his hair. _Her eyes... her smile..._ The ticking of the clock on the wall was enough to drive him mad, but it was a comfort to know it was there; he was awake and not in his dream world. That dream world was toxic; he couldn't live there forever.

But oh, how he wished he could. Everything in the dream world was wonderful and perfect, the way it should have been. A pair of rings would have sat on her fingers, they'd live in a perfect little house on the beach... he wouldn't be what he was. They'd still be here... _Daddy..._

As the memories flooded into his brain, James stood and paced, shaking his head as he went to rattle the memories free from his mind. If he could do that, maybe he'd get a peaceful night's rest.

Her voice, the voice he knew like the contours of her hips, danced through his brain. _James... James... why?_

Before he could stop himself, another hole was added to the wall, his fist disappearing behind the plasterboard. He pulled his hand free, feeling her soft hair between his fingers. Collapsing to his knees, tears slipped from his eyes and he wept, feeling his emotions become too much to bare, as they usually did when he was left alone at night. He felt his nails dig into the palms of his hands as he punched the ground, trying to force the memories to go away. Each punch seemed to make it worse.

The weird way she drank tea... her ability to know when something was bothering him... the miracle they made...

James jerked back when he felt hands on his shoulders. Through his blurred vision he saw her eyes. Those startling brown eyes, as deep as the forests of the world. He could see them, as plain as day, though a little voice in the back of his head told him this wasn't real. He'd let go of reality again. The two worlds he lived in were blurring together again.

"James...?"

That wasn't her voice. It was a new voice, one he'd met recently.

He stared into those eyes again, wondering if he really was losing his mind.

"Are you alright?"

The voice was back. It seemed to be enough to chase the memories away. Blinking the tears from his eyes, he saw the sea green eyes of Brooke, concern all over her face. She was in a dressing gown and slippers, but the alertness of her eyes told him she hadn't been asleep.

"...Brooke?" he whispered, looking at his hands. He had red marks all over his knuckles, some of them bleeding. He was shaking all over.

"It's okay..." Brooke's voice was soft, calm and motherly. He looked up at her again as she stood, her hand offered to him. "Let's get you some tea and you can tell me what happened."

He smiled softly and took her hand, deciding to ignore the heat radiating through his arm.

~X~

James reached up and took the hot mug from Brooke's hand as they sat on the sofa. She had dimmed the lights in the room to not encourage a headache, lighting a few candles so they could still see each other while they talked. Truth be told, he hadn't said a word to her about what was going on, and it was clear to him that she wouldn't push the subject. She would sit beside him and comfort him. He could tell she wanted to ask, but she wouldn't because she knew he had trouble talking about the topic.

James was about to open his mouth and speak when there was a knock on the door. It was almost four in the morning, and most of Santa Monica was asleep. Who would be visiting them at this hour?

Brooke stood, resting a hand on his shoulder before walking over to the door. The reassuring touch of her fingers was enough to remind him to stay in the real world. His dream world could wait.

The sound of Sam's voice drew him from his daze and he turned to look over at the door, blinking as the harsh light of the hallway flooded into the darkened room.

"I came as soon as I could. My dog kind of freaked out when I woke up not long after falling asleep and I had to calm her down," the blonde said, running a set of fingers through his short hair. Brooke nodded and shut the door behind him, giving the darkness in the room a chance to spread again.

James watched as Sam maneuvered his way to the sofa, barely scraping his knee on the coffee table. He sat beside James and looked him in the eye.

"It happened again, didn't it?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. James nodded, putting his mug on the coffee table. Sam sighed, leaning back against the cushions. "This is the third time in as many weeks, Jimmy."

"I know. I don't know how to stop it."

"Stop what?" Brooke said from behind James. He jerked at the sound of her voice. She sounded so much like... her.

James' eyes shot closed, his free hand raking through his hair. The voice was back, telling him he'd fucked up everything he'd ever wanted.

A calloused hand on his shoulder broke the reverie he'd slipped into and he looked up into the deep brown eyes of Sam. Concern was written all over his face.

"She's not here, Jimmy," he cooed, forcing James to make eye contact. James blinked, rubbing at his sleep deprived eyes.

"I know, and that's why it hurts so much. I can't let her go, I refuse," he whispered, his shoulders shaking.

Brooke stood behind them still, her eyes on James. He was wracked with guilt. His shoulders shook with the despair he'd been holding onto for who knows how long. He voice cracked with the echoes of too many nights screaming into the void. She'd heard him. When he wasn't sitting at his desk in the living room or watching TV on the sofa, in the moments of reprieve he tried to gain from sleeping, his voice would bellow down the hall way, his anguish crystal clear. He screamed in his sleep, as if willing someone, anyone, to come to his rescue and save him from the monsters that plagued his nightmares. She wanted to help him, to take his hand and drag him back from the edge, but how could she? She didn't know him well enough to even stretch out her hand. This was not something she was built for.

She'd been trained from a very young age to be aloof and emotionless, to rule with an iron fist, just like her mother. Empathy was not something she came equipped with, but it was now something she needed, to help someone she barely knew.

"Brooke?"

Sam's voice broke through her thoughts and she looked up at him.

"Yes?"

"I take it you zoned out and didn't hear the conversation I just had with James?"

Brooke nodded, feeling sheepish. Her concern for James should have taken center stage in her mind, but she'd drifted off again.

"Sorry, I was processing the situation," she admitted, giving Sam her most apologetic grin. He smiled in return, looking down at James. The long haired-man turned to look up at Brooke, smiling slightly. The muscle on his temple was throbbing and his eye twitched every so often. Sam rested a hand on his shoulder, turning back to face the wayward princess.

"James has trouble sleeping, which I'm guessing you know already." She nodded. "I'll let him tell you in his own time why, but I'd like you to stay in his room with him so he can get some sleep." Brooke's eyes shot open at the notion. Was Sam asking her to sleep in James' bed _with_ him? She'd known the man for barely three days and now she was expected to sleep with him? What kind of world had she stepped into?

Sam smiled at the look on her face but it was James who responded.

"It's not what you think," he whispered, blinking up at her. He was deathly pale and clearly afraid of what was in his head, but he was still cognitive enough to speak. "If someone is in the room with me, I'm less likely to lash out and hurt myself. It's usually Willa but I asked her to do something for me."

"And I can't do it because I have to get home to Pippa," Sam interjected, grinning. Brooke raised an eyebrow at him. "My dog. If I spend the night somewhere else, she gets incredibly anxious and scared."

Brooke nodded, looking down at James as he turned away, muttering to himself. He twitched as he stood, easing his way into moving again. Sam offered his shoulder but the distraught man refused, using the wall to support himself.

"Sleep on the sofa in his room if you get tired," Sam said to Brooke as he walked to the door.

"What do I do if he lashes out and hits me?"

Sam chuckled. "Knowing the temper you've got, you'll hit him right back." He rested a hand on his chest and bowed his head a little. "Goodnight, Princess."

Brooke smiled and shut the door behind him, looking into the darkness as James' silhouette disappeared.

It was going to be a long night.


	6. Chapter Five: The Wrong Side of Heaven

Chapter Five: The Wrong Side of Heaven

Morning broke over Los Angeles to the crisp Winds of Santa Ana drifting through from the west coast. The Star Cafe's doors opened as the sun rose above the waves, giving its occupants a beautiful view of the sea. Xander Levesque stood near the window, having opened the front doors of the cafe and pushed them against the walls, opening the room up to its terrace. Behind him, flipping chairs down onto the floor was April, his beautiful wife. He turned to watch her as she went through the motions of opening their little slice of heaven. He couldn't help but be amazed by her beauty. Long dark hair, emerald green eyes, olive skin and long legs. She was truly an angel among men.

The snapping of fingers in his face drew Xander's attention to the black haired man who had joined him at the door. The smirk on his face told Xander that he had zoned out and his companion had caught him out.

"Good morning to you too, Cooper," he said, eyebrow raised. Cooper grinned.

"Morning, boss," he chirped as he headed towards the back. He high-fived April as he went passed, causing Xander to smile. The relationship April had with her siblings was each special and unique in their own way, but her relationship with Cooper was much more than the others. She was his shoulder to cry on, his best friend and mentor. Cooper had made a mistake a few years beforehand and was now on his path to redemption. With the death of James and Mindy Lawson, his aunt and uncle, Cooper had fled Las Vegas in hopes of ending his life, but instead had been retrieved by Abbigail, April's sister, and taken to the Levesque household. There he had learned that even mistakes can be fixed, if you take the right steps to rectify them. Now Cooper was working three jobs to support his girlfriend and their children. He'd made a pretty good life for himself.

"Good morning."

Xander turned to find Brooke standing in the door way, her bag slung over her shoulder. He raised an eyebrow at her attire. She wore a pair of black, pre-torn jeans, a red singlet with 'Bite Me' written in graffiti-style writing and knee high converse. Her hair was tied up in a high ponytail, her bangs draping down over her face.

"Morning," he said, looking her up and down as he assessed her outfit. "What the hell are you wearing?"

Brooke looked down at her clothes then back at him, confusion distorting her pretty face.

"You told me to wear something casual?"

Xander snorted back laughter, resting his back against the door frame.

"Casual and _plain._ I distinctly remember saying plain." Xander smiled softly at the frown on Brooke's face. She'd obviously tried very hard to dress for the occasion and was disappointed in herself. In his thirty-five years of life, he'd learned to read facial expressions like a book and hers wasn't hard to read at all. He rested a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, we have uniforms here for you to use. But next time, no torn jeans. Plain black will do."

Brooke smiled, a smile that showed her gratitude, as she followed him back into the cafe. April and Cooper were standing behind the counter, stacking the trays with cupcakes and doughnuts. The scent of freshly cooked dough and cinnamon wafted through the air, giving the cafe an inviting feel.

"Stop eating the merchandise, Coop," April said as they walked up, gently slapping at Cooper's hand as he tried to steal a doughnut from the rack. Cooper grinned and turned as Xander sat down at one of the tables.

"Angel, Coop, this is Brooke," he said, gesturing to the blonde standing beside him. She smiled politely.

April smiled in return. "We've met. Sorry about last night, kid. I was extremely busy and didn't have the time or patience for job interviews."

"I completely understand," Brooke replied, the smile never leaving her face. "It's very fortunate that Xander was available last night or I would probably be on the streets by now."

April laughed, a hearty laugh that brought a smile to her husband's face.

"I'm sure your housemate wouldn't have kicked you out for not getting a job, as long as you can pay your rent on time."

Brooke smiled but the smile never touched her eyes. "You don't know him as well as I do."

"That's fair," Cooper said, smiling at her. "I'm Cooper and I'll be the one training you. Prepare to be dazzled by Cooper Benjamin Calaway's attempt at teaching."

"Attempt being the appropriate word there," Xander laughed, eyeing his brother-in-law. The almost inaudible gasp from Brooke broke his reverie and he turned to look at her.

"Did... did you just say Calaway?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yep... though that's not my legal name yet. I'm still in the process of changing it."

"Why do you ask?" April asked, her eyebrow raised. Brooke chewed her lip and looked away thinking about her response carefully.

Xander turned to look April in the eye, using the magic he'd been given to project his thoughts into her mind.

 _I knew from the minute I met her. I get the same feeling about Brooke that I do about you, the girls, Gunner and Cooper. Like I have to protect her._

April nudged her head in the direction of the back room, indicating for him to follow her. He stood, excused himself from the group and followed her. As soon as the door was shut and locked, April picked up a metal serving tray and threw it across the room, barely missing Xander as he ducked out of the way. She had gone from happy to enraged before he could even blink. A cupcake tray immediately followed it.

Before she could throw a toaster at him, Xander grabbed her wrists and forced them to her sides.

"April, calm down."

"He lied to me! He lied again! I have another sister I haven't known about for her entire life."

It was clear to Xander that April's temper was about to erupt, so he concentrated hard, pouring his healing magic into his hands. His fingertips glowed silver as he took away some of her rage. The darkness in her eyes faded away as they locked eyes. Xander could feel her anger curling into him, like a poison in his veins. His temple throbbed but it was worth it to see his wife calm again. He could feel the blackness in his soul pulsing and growing. He had to stop before he made himself angry.

Releasing his magic, the shadows inside him growled then curled themselves away, content once again. Taking a deep breath, he looked his wife in the eye and smiled.

"This may be the same as Abbi, Angel."

April tilted her head and thought for a second. Abbi was her twin sister that she'd only known about for less than five years. She'd always believed Abbi was dead, a stillborn. When she'd shown up on that fateful day in September of 2007, April had been angry then, believing her father a liar then too. He hadn't been. Was she jumping to conclusions again? If Brooke was just one of Xander's charges, and not her little sister, then she was angry for nothing There was the very real possibility that she was her sister, however, as Xander's charges as a Guardian Angel only really applied to her family. Anyone who shared the Calaway bloodline, Xander felt the need to protect.

April looked at the ground, wracking her brain for an answer. Brooke only appeared to be in her early twenties, so she would have been conceived in the early nineties. Mark hadn't started dating his second wife, Sara, until 1997. Her father had been far too depressed to even think about sleeping around, let alone dating. There had to be a mistake.

"Brooke's not my sister," April said finally, showing off those pearl-white teeth of hers. She let out a nervous laugh, as if she was trying to come to terms with it. Xander raised an eyebrow, smirk in place.

"And how do you know that?"

"The times don't match up; She would have been born in the early nineties, and Dad wasn't dating anyone or sleeping with anyone. My grandmother would have killed him if he did."

Xander's smirk only grew. "Nanna Calaway had a fairly lethal right hook on her, if I remember correctly."

April nodded, the memory of how many times her father had taken said right hook to the stomach or jaw floating into her head. She let out a giggle.

Xander kissed her temple, knowing that she'd mellowed out now. A quick wink and a smile and he returned to the main hall of the cafe, spying Cooper and Brooke across the way. The black-and-red haired man was teaching Brooke how to use the coffee machine.

"Welcome to the family, Brooke," he called before waving at them. Brooke looked up at him and the friendly smile on his face, grinning right back at him. Whichever way she took it was fine by him, he knew she was April's little sister. She'd find out eventually that she had a magickal lineage to live up to, and one hell of a wrestling heritage. Either way, she was as special as the rest of them in his eyes, and he would protect her from anything.

The question was, how would April take that news when it finally came out?

~X~

The sun was high in the sky when James stepped out of his apartment building and onto the streets of Santa Monica. He'd thankfully had a few hours of uninterrupted sleep after he'd dropped Brooke off for her first day, and he was now bright-eyed and bushy tailed... well, as much as he could be. Her face had still haunted him, but not as much. Sam had been wandering around his apartment while he'd slept, so he hadn't had as many nightmares. Still, little sleep was still better than no sleep.

Sam stepped out into the sunshine beside him and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Sammy," James said, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "Today is the day I hook you and Brooke up."

"Hilarious, James," Sam replied with a grin, shoving his friend away. "You know as well as I do that Brooke and I are not compatible."

"Not from what I saw," James cooed as he straddled his motorcycle. Trip had been nice enough to pull both his bike and Brooke's out of his garage and park them in front of his apartment. He rested his arms on the handle bars and watched Sam mount the other bike. "You and Brooke are on the same damn wave length!"

Sam grinned and rolled his eyes and slipped on his helmet, covering his eyes from James' view. James knew better though; Sam was hiding the fact that he had very minor feelings for Brooke. He probably wouldn't act on them, he never did. It's why Sam would be a life-long bachelor. He felt himself unworthy of female affection.

James was about to slip his helmet on when he felt the air around him ripple. He looked up and scanned the area, searching for the disturbance. Across the busy Santa Monica street, in the shadows of the Foxy Boxes building, was a blond haired kid he'd come across before. He was a twenty-two year old that James had practically watched grow up. With blonde hair, tanned skin and ember eyes, Charlie Antonio was hard to forget.

Sam removed his helmet and looked at James, following his gaze to where Charlie stood in the shadows. He watched the blonde reach into his pocket and remove a ceremonial dagger, the purple gem in its hilt shining. The squealing of wheels beside him drew his attention, however, and he jerked his head to look at James.

A cocky smirk had crossed his face as he held tight to the brakes of his bike, all while forcing the accelerator. He held Charlie's gaze, challenging him to follow him. Quickly slipping his helmet on, he revved the engine of his bike again and swung out into the street. His bike immediately reared in protest, but he slammed it back down and weaved his way through the traffic, Sam close behind him.

A loud screech filled the air and James looked over his shoulder. What he knew to be Charlie's alternate form, was flying through the air, twisting and turning as his human self shifted away. _A witch in grief_ , James thought to himself as the Banshee shrieked again. He returned his eyes to the road, drifting around a corner and through the busy streets of downtown Los Angeles. He dodged and weaved each sonic blast as cars exploded around him. Charlie was definitely trying to kill him. No surprise there, but he was doing all of this in the eyes of the public. People were screaming and running as the white hell beast chased the two bikes through the streets. He knew exactly what was going to happen after this. The trio of witches who hated him the most would again attempt to hunt him down and kill him, without even considering that he hadn't started the fight. Typical.

 _You know,_ came Sam's voice in his head. He jerked his head to look at Sam quickly before dropping his bike all the way down, skidding underneath an oncoming eighteen-wheeler, _for someone who values their privacy so much that they have a secret name, you really know how to draw attention to yourself._

 _And what exactly am I supposed to do?!_ James all but shouted back, using the freeway's off ramp to elevate himself into air. Sam was right behind him, of course, but much lower to the ground. There was a very high probability that they would separate. Another banshee screech shot passed them both as they landed, tearing up the asphalt. A black sedan slammed on its breaks and skidded to the side, almost blocking off their path. James' reflexes were perfect, as usual, and he managed to force his bike over the hood and back into traffic.

They continued to bob and weave away from Charlie's anguished cries until he finally gave up. By the time he had, they'd traveled around Los Angeles several times and the sun had started to go down. When they returned to James' apartment, it was almost dusk. James pushed open the door to the garage beside Trip's and pushed his bike in, trying to be as quiet as possible. Sam sidled in behind him, kicking the stand out and leaving Brooke's bike near the far wall. James let out a deep sigh and collapsed on the ground, leaning against his own bike.

"That was not how I wanted to spend my day," he breathed, blinking up at Sam. His friend smiled, his head tilted to the side.

"Weren't you supposed to pick up Brooke from work?"

James blinked at him before darting to his feet and careening out of the garage and to his apartment. Sam shook his head and stuffed his hands in his pockets, following after his idiot friend.

Fumbling for his key, James muttered profanities to himself. He knew Brooke would have found a way home when she couldn't contact him, and he knew she'd be inside. The problem was, he barely knew Brooke, and didn't trust her to be in his apartment alone just yet. She'd only been alone the night before because he'd assumed Sam was with her. She hadn't been alone long, and she seemed trustworthy enough, but there were things in his apartment he didn't want her to find just yet. Things he wanted to keep safe and hidden. They were his memories, and those memories he didn't share with anyone, especially Sam, Willa and Daniel. They knew why, but Brooke didn't, and he figure she would snoop around to find out as much as she could about him, which would lead her to the locked room across from his.

As it turned out, he was right. When he slammed over the door, Brooke was nowhere in sight. He checked her room to find her missing. He took a deep breath and ventured into his side of the apartment, cringing when he saw _her_ door open. He felt someone's fingers curl around his arm and he turned, spying Sam.

"Don't lose your temper, she's just curious," he said, his voice filled with warning. James sighed. How could he not? There was a reason he'd put Brooke in the room he did. This side of the house was forbidden territory. No one except James was allowed in that room.

Pulling away from Sam, James stepped into the door way, watching the wayward blonde run her fingers over the pink satin bed spread. In her hand was Mr Fuzzytail, a stuffed purple rabbit that had belonged to...

"What the hell are you doing in here?!" James roared, his temper flaring. No one was allowed in the room, and this was exactly why! Her things had to stay the same way she left them. Nothing was to be moved. Her memory would be preserved forever that way.

Brooke jumped, holding the rabbit to her chest out of fear. She'd never heard James yell like that, nor had she seen his face as red as it was. He was fuming. Any wrong movement and he would probably use her head as a drinking goblet.

"I-"

"No one is allowed in here!"

A step back was all it took for Brooke to lose her footing and fall to the floor. She looked up at James as his temple throbbed, his knuckles whitening as he curled his fingers into a fist. She backed away slowly, knowing that her face had probably morphed into a target he was just raring to punch.

"Brooke," called Sam's concerned voice from the hallway, "did you touch anything in there?"

Brooke looked down at the rabbit in her hand. It was old and dusty, and she'd intended on returning it to the bed since she'd found it on the floor, but James had walked in before she had the chance.

"Y-yes..."

There was a loud sigh and Mr Fuzzytail wiggled from beneath her hand, floating into the air in front of her, bobbing once then returning to the floor, exactly where she'd found it earlier; face down, tail in the air, one arm tucked under its leg. Brooke looked up at James as he shook with rage.

"Get out," he growled, standing aside so she could leave. She swallowed back her fear and stood, smoothing dusting off her jeans. Clearly James had lost his patience though because he grabbed her arm and shoved her from the room into Sam's waiting arms. He turned to look at them both and growled, shutting the door behind her. There was a click and then nothing.

Silence filled the hallway. Brooke shuddered, holding back her tears. She normally had enough courage to fill a stadium, but that had been drained from her. She was terrified. James' outburst had filled her with more fear than she'd ever felt before. Even her mother and her mythical rage didn't compare to that. She shook in Sam's arms as he curled them around her, trying with little success to comfort her.

"Shh, it's okay, little princess," he cooed, leading her down the hallway to the living room. He sat her down on the sofa and curled an arm around her shoulders as she cried.

Deep, heaving sobs escaped Brooke's mouth before she even had a chance to stop them. She had never shed a single tear before, but now? Her human side was showing its colors. Everything had gone wrong today; she'd dropped several glasses from her tray, tripped twice going in and out of the kitchen, and almost poured lemonade down a ladies back. She'd had a terrible day and probably wouldn't be welcome back tomorrow, and now James wanted to smash her face into the ground. Why was this happening to her? All she'd tried to do was help, and now he was angry at her. What had she done wrong?

Wiping the tears away, Brooke sniffed and looked up at Sam. He gave her a sympathetic look. He seemed to be the only friend she'd made in the human world who understood that she was just as lost as a new born baby. She was having trouble fitting in, and he was the only one who would help her.

"Chin up, Brookey," he said with a grin, tapping her nose with his finger. She smiled softly at him, wiping away more stray tears. "James is a little... protective about that room..."

"Why? Who does the room belong to?"

Sam bit his lip, searching for an answer. Was it his place to tell Brooke James' secrets? No, but she at least needed to know something so she wouldn't trigger him again.

"That's Lucy's room," he said after a moment, picking his words carefully.

"Who is Lucy?" she asked, as curious as a child. Sam looked away, trying to think of how to respond. He couldn't give away everything; that was up to James to decide. But he could tell her who Lucy was, right?

"Lucy was James' daughter. She passed away, two years ago, in a car accident." He ran a set of fingers through his hair. "He's kept that room the same way she left it ever since. He never really got over it."

The look on Brooke's face said it all; she was embarrassed and ashamed of herself. She'd gone into James' private room without asking and messed everything up. She'd besmirched his daughter's memory. How could she have been so stupid? Of course she'd somehow ruin everything she'd tried to make for herself in the first week, her mentor had warned her she would.

Brooke stood, darting down the hallway to her own room, Sam trailing behind her.

"Where are you going?"

"I cannot stay here. I am going to ruin everything for him. He needs time to grieve; my presence here will only make it worse." Turning to face him as she entered her room, she smiled. His lip curled in reply.

"I know somewhere you can go."


	7. Chapter Six: The Righteous Side of Hell

Chapter Six: The Righteous Side of Hell

Brooke didn't even notice the motorcycle pull up to the curb in downtown Los Angeles. She'd been watching the white lines streak passed as she held onto Sam. The sun had set hours ago. The only light in the area came from the flickering street lamps and the bright neon sign above a door. She dragged her tired eyes away from the curb and studied the sign. It was bright green, flashing in the shape of of triangle with different colored circles inside it. She'd never seen the shape before, but Sam seemed to know exactly what it was. He tilted his head a little, smiling at the confused princess.

"Where are we?" she asked, looking up at the building. It was an old brick building with no windows. Three concrete steps led up to the old double doors. The white paint was chipping away, weathered by age. The more she stared, the more her unease grew. Where had Sam taken her?

"This is Hell Mouth Pool Hall," Sam said, removing the key from the bike. He handed the key back to her, red pom-pom first, and smiled. He took her hand and led her up the steps, into the darkened space.

Once her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Brooke took in her surroundings. There were several tables set up around the room, each with balls on top of them. Over each table were fluorescent lights, illuminating the game that was being played. Around the walls were faded posters from movies, one catching her eye. A girl was swimming in the ocean while a mammoth shark was stalking her from below. She pulled her gaze away to look at the bar. A very big man with tattoos up and down his arms was chatting to a red headed girl. A few other people were around, playing whatever game was played on the tables. In the back corner was a card table, its seating completely filled.

The one thing Brooke noticed about the patrons of Hell Mouth Pool Hall is that they were all residents of the Underworld. They were demons.

"Just because I'm Hell's Princess, doesn't mean I will be comfortable in a demon den, Sam," she said, clinging to her companion's arm. He smiled meekly at her.

"Perhaps, but don't you think you'll be safe here?"

Brooke bit her lip, looking at the red head at the bar. On closer inspection, she could see her legs turned transparent the further down she looked, as did the tips of her hair. She was a Siren. The Hell-bound Princess knew exactly what that meant.

"They're not all demons in here, are they?" she asked as she and Sam stepped up to the bar. The bartender have her an odd look and leaned down to look at her.

"I wouldn't generalize in here, Missy," he warned, his voice gruff and worn. Brooke blinked at him. "Newbies get punished if they step out of line in my place."

"Easy, Malachi," Sam said, his tone dropping. The usual lightness in his voice was gone. Brooke pulled away, feeling the muscles of his arm stiffen. He let out a low growl as he held eyes with the bartender. "It's unwise to mess with me today."

Malachi raised an eyebrow and straightened, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Even if you're one of the Horsemen, Saturius, that doesn't mean you can walk in here like you own the place."

Brooke stiffened. Sam was one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse? As far as she knew, the Horsemen had been banished from Caina after their previous master was dethroned. Her mother hadn't taken their powers, but none of them had returned in centuries, long before her birth. As residents of Hell, however, did that mean Brooke was technically his superior? Time to test that theory.

"Stand down, Saturius," she growled, calling on her confidence, hoping it wouldn't break before she said what she needed to say. She had promised herself upon on her arrival in Los Angeles that she wouldn't use any of her powers, so perhaps her name alone would defuse the tension.

Sam smirked and peered at her out of the corner of his eye. He knew exactly what she was doing.

"As you wish, Princess Brookai," he mused, turning and taking her hand. The red head at the bar spit her drink all over at the bar as the two companion's made their way through the tables to one at the far side of the room. "You're lucky no one here has contact with your mother," he whispered, handing her a stick.

Brooke grinned in return.

"I was betting on that," she said, winking and poking her tongue through her teeth. "Now, would you kindly teach me to play whatever this game is?"

~X~

The sun was rising over the city skyline when Brooke returned home, giggling up a storm. When she unlocked the door to the apartment and swung the door open, she stopped short. James was leaning against the wall near the window, gazing out at the flickering lights of Santa Monica pier. She swallowed back the last of her laughter and stepped into the room, eyes glued to the man before her. He turned his head as she entered the room, raising an eyebrow at her.

"I hope you had a good evening," he deadpanned. His eyes were dark and distant.

"I.. I did. Sam taught me how to play pool," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

James seemed to pale. He chewed his lip, watching Brooke as she sat down on the sofa. She looked up at him after a moment, brow furrowed. She chewed her lip, absentmindedly fiddling with the silver rings around her fingers. She looked at her feet, her nerves getting the best of her. She knew that the conversation she was about to have would be difficult, and judging by James' demeanor, he knew it too. She and Sam had discussed what needed to be said, but she had no idea what James' reaction would be.

"Look," James said, drawing her attention. She looked up at him surprised. James took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry about how I reacted before. I only spend time with the guys and they know not to go in that room. I should have mentioned it to you when you moved in."

"I shouldn't have gone in there without knowing," Brooke replied, smiling meekly. James returned the smile.

"I lost everything I loved a couple of years ago and I've never come to terms with it. It's why I don't sleep well at night. My grief haunts me, even when I'm unconscious." He shook his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I don't talk about it because it's too hard. It brings back memories I don't want to remember."

Brooke looked down at her feet again. What she needed to say was hard.

"I understand that," she finally said. "Losing your child must be the hardest burden in the world to bare. No parent should ever have to bury their child."

James' lip trembled as he held back tears. She could see the memories floating behind his eyes. They must have been truly painful. What she had to say next would be hard for him to hear.

"James... come and sit with me."

He peered at her, shaking the haunted look from his eyes. After a moment, he pushed himself away from the wall and wandered over, sitting down beside her. He still kept his distance, however, as he slouched forward and rested his head in his hands. Without thinking about it, she reached over to rub his back, as soothing as she could be given the circumstances. He was broken, still in the process of breaking. This was a difficult conversation for both of them to have. She was apologizing for a mistake, something she'd never done before, and he was coming to grips with his pain. Perhaps, after this was all said and done, they could be friends.

"James, until you heal the wounds of your past, you are going to bleed."

He looked up at her, shock written all over his face. She dug in her heels and continued. It needed to be said.

"You can bandage the bleeding with as many distractions as you can think of. But it is like applying a band-aid to a stab wound. You will still bleed through and eventually it will stain your life." She pulled his hands down, holding both of his between hers. They were warm, and the callouses on his fingers sent shivers through her. "You must find the strength to open the wound, stick your hands in and pull out the core of the pain that is holding you in your past... those painful memories... and make peace with them."

"That is something I know I can't do," he whispered, gripping her hand tightly. It felt as if he was holding onto her very spirit, using it to anchor himself in this reality.

"I bet you could, if you try. But it takes time, and I will be here to help."

James looked up into the emerald pools of his friend. The corners of his lips twitched and threatened to curl into a smile. She really was going to help him. She didn't know it, but by letting him open up instead of trying to distract him, she was already helping. Just sitting there beside him, she was chasing away the shadows that haunted him with a merciless vengeance.

"I should get a little bit of sleep," Brooke said suddenly, smiling at him. His brow furrowed, confused.

"Why?"

"I am working at the cafe this afternoon. I have been up all night trying to figure out how to apologize to you."

James smirked. He stood, offering her his hand.

"I have to sleep as well; been up all night waiting for you to come home. As much as I trust Sammie, Santa Monica is a bitch when she wants to be."

Brooke giggled and took his hand, stumbling slightly when he yanked her to her feet. He caught her before she could fall, however and smiled down at her. The electricity that ran between them was palpable. They were close enough now that her nose could graze his chin and his skin was warm where his hands were on her lower back. The warmth seemed to spread to her face as she giggled slightly and stepped away, covering her reddening cheeks.

James smirked down at her.

"Well, good night, Brookey. I'll see you in the morning." He mock bowed, ending his little show of smugness with a salute as he straightened.

Brooke smiled after him as he wandered down the hall way. He produced a small key and unlocked his bedroom door. Before he entered, he turned back and smiled at her.

"I'm glad you're still here."

Brooke's smile only grew.

"I am too."

~X~

The sweet aroma of pancakes wafted in from the living room. It was this that stirred Brooke from her sleep, not her alarm blaring beside her or the tweeting birds on her window sill. As her eyes adjusted to the light filtering through her curtains, she sat up and stretched. It was a beautiful day on the Golden Coast and she could see why it had the nickname it did. The reflection of the sun glittered across the crashing waves of the beach. Through the window she could see the rooftops of the buildings next door. She smiled, watching the mother bird on her sill, feeding her babies. A wave of emotion swelled up in her chest and she looked down at her wrist. Under the bracelet she wore to hide her identity from the world was the birthmark she'd been born with. It was a tiny brown flame, surrounded by freckles. Her twin had one as well, except his was a crystal of ice. She did want to see Blakius again, but it would mean returning to her home where her mother was waiting, probably prepared to smack her daughter down for disobeying her.

Turning to face the mirror on her dresser, she smiled at her reflection. She was almost an exact copy her mother's mortal shell, Glory. In Caina, her hair would usually flow a vibrant red with a single blonde streak through her fringe, and her eyes would blaze with the very fires of Hell itself. Her human appearance wasn't that different; she still had her high cheek bones and narrow jaw, as well as tanned skin and freckles. Her eyes, however, were a brilliant emerald color, something she liked. She smiled at her self. She was pretty, but not exceptionally beautiful. As plain as day.

Brooke's inner musings were interrupted by a knock on her door. She looked up in time to see James poke his head through.

"Morning, I made breakfast!" he mused, holding out a plate stacked high with pancakes. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Has Hell frozen over?"

He raised an eyebrow right back at her.

"Never assume I can't cook, Brookey. I can, I just choose not to. In fact, that's a good life lesson. Never assume anything of anyone; it's the mother of all fuck ups."

Brooke giggled. James appeared to be much happier since their chat the night before. There seemed to be a skip back to his step and a smile had returned to his handsome face. She took the silence between them to study him. He really was quite attractive. With long dark hair, emphasized by a blond streak on the right side, hazel eyes and narrow features, he could walk the catwalk one and people would think he was a god among men. The scar that split his left eyebrow caught her attention and she tilted her head.

"What?" James asked, placing the plate on the vanity near the door. She giggled.

"Nothing, I was just curious as to how you got the scar near your eye."

James smirked and ran his finger over the scar, his mind thrown back to the day he'd been thrown through several walls after meeting the business end of Charlie's dagger. Not his smartest move to attempt to soothe the aching soul of a witch, but he had at least made a little progress. He hadn't seen or heard from Charlie from that day until he'd ran into him yesterday. Almost a year to the day since he'd tried to redeem himself.

"Well, redemption starts with forgiveness, and the person who gave me this scar clearly hasn't forgiven me yet."

Brooke stood, smiling at him. She wandered over and picked up a fluffy pancake, folding it and sticking it in her mouth. James smirked at her. All she could do in return was continue smiling and chewing. Eventually, she swallowed and pointed at him.

"They will eventually."

The smirk on James face faltered as Brooke brushed passed him into the hall way. He hadn't exactly lied to her, but he hadn't told her the truth either. He wasn't looking for Charlie's forgiveness. He was trying to forgive himself.

That was the hardest thing he would ever do.


	8. Chapter Seven: The Past Must Be Paid For

Chapter Seven: The Past Must Be Paid For

"So he actually told you how he got the scar?"

Brooke watched Cooper as he flipped chairs down from on top of the tables. She was standing behind the counter wiping it down and had spent the last few minutes telling him about last nights events, including the conversation that morning. He'd listened and waited to answer, which she thanked him for. She didn't like being interrupted.

"Well, no, but I assume he will at some point down the line, if he trusts me enough."

"Trust isn't the easiest thing in the world to earn, especially for James." Cooper leaned on the back of a chair, brushing a strand of his fringe back into place. "He isn't really the type to trust people outside of his friends. He probably feels like if he trusts anyone besides Willa, Daniel and Sam, they'll use information about him against him. He's kinda paranoid, actually. He never comes into the club anymore because he's terrified April is going to stab him."

"And I will if he ever does," April called from the kitchen. Cooper snickered.

"Why doesn't April like him?" Brooke asked, placing a tray of freshly baked muffins in the display rack. Cooper quirked an eyebrow at her and tilted his head.

"Hasn't she told you?"

"Not her problem, Coop!"

Snickering again, Cooper ran a set of fingers through his hair and though for a second. He could see April's bustling form through the kitchen window, the twin scars lining her face. Brooke had only been working for a few days now and April already treated her like a sister. By that, though, it meant she was keeping certain things from her, her heritage as a witch being one of them. Paganism was a widely accepted religion in the modern era, but her brand of witchcraft dealt with a little bit more than healing stones and chanting to gods. April and her twin sisters shared abilities that allowed them to vanquish demons and protect the innocent, but they had chosen to keep it secret. It allowed them to do what they did and not cause an uproar. It was so secret in fact that Brooke was oblivious to the fact her direct superior at the cafe was a guardian angel, the one assigned to protect the Calaway Witches.

Cooper took a breath and decided made a decision, one he would probably regret later.

"You know about Lucy, but not her mother. Maya Antonio was James' girlfriend, but she was also April's friend. The kind of friend you'd go to the ends of the Earth for," he said, choosing his words very carefully.

Brooke leaned her elbows against the counter, listening intently to what Cooper had to say. How would James react if he knew Cooper was talking about his little girl and her mother?

"Maya... well, she passed away the same day Lucy did. James blames himself for it." The black-and-red haired man smiled, the kind of smile that was hidden behind years of abuse and pain. Brooke had seen the same smile on James' face. The difference between the two was that Cooper's smile was coming out from behind its wall; James' was retreating further behind it. One of the two men had forgiven himself for the things he'd done, the other hadn't and it wasn't hard to tell which one.

The sound of metal slamming against marble caught Brooke's attention as she turned to face April. The older woman had a scowl on her face.

"James can blame himself all he wants for Mimi's death. Hell, he can even say he forgives himself for what he did, but I will always be around to remind him that he is a piece of shit that deserves to burn in the bottom layers of Hell."

"Violence, fraud and treachery," Brooke blurted before she could stop herself. April raised an eyebrow and looked at her.

"For someone who didn't know what fajitas were yesterday, you sure do know your literature."

Brooke blinked. "What?"

"Violence, fraud and treachery are the last three layers in Hell, according to Dante's Inferno."

The trio turned to face the main entrance to the cafe where James was standing, leaning against the wall with a cocky smirk on his face. Brooke felt herself beaming at him as the light of the rising sun encircled his dark locks like a halo. Scars and all, he looked beautiful to her and she was always happy to see him, despite the fact he'd only dropped her off an hour beforehand.

April, on the other hand, was not happy to see him. In fact, her face had gone from annoyed to pissed off in a matter of seconds.

"Get out of here, Landau, or I'll call the police."

James' smirk grew. "Not your usual threat. What happened to wanting to flay me alive?

Brooke blanched at the mere thought of his skin being peeled from his body but April just smirked in return.

"Oh, don't worry, I still want to. As if the police could stop me from ripping you apart if I wanted to."

"I'm gonna stop ya before this turns into the world's weirdest dick measuring contest," Cooper piped up, looking between his sister and James, "why are you here, James?"

"Brooke forgot her house keys." To emphasize his point, he raised a hand. True to his word, Brooke's fluffy, red ball key-chain was hanging from his middle finger, her key to the apartment hanging from it, as well as the key to her motorcycle and a third she didn't recognize. She couldn't help but smile at him. He was so thoughtful when he wanted to be.

James smirked and threw the keys to the blonde behind the counter, grinning as she fumbled for them. The inside of the cafe wasn't small, but the door sat to the side of the front counter, meaning he had a clear shot of his housemate who stood only few feet away. He turned his attention back to April and grinned.

"You won't have to worry about me for a while. I have a few things I need to take care of in San Francisco so I'll be out of town for a few days."

"Why do you think I give a shit?"

"To keep Blondie-locks safe."

With that, James winked to Brooke and sauntered out of the doorway and back into the busy streets of downtown Los Angeles.

The cafe was quiet for a few minutes. There was a sense of tension in the air that felt raw and ridged. Cooper looked between the two women behind the counter. Brooke had a dopey grin on her face, clearly in the thralls of a major crush. April on the other hand looked as if she was ready to kill. She'd been in a wonderful mood this morning until James had been brought up in conversation wherein her mood had started to dissipate. The storm clouds had gathered behind her and she was ready to unleash her full fury on the hapless information broker.

Thankfully, a welcome reprieve arrived soon after to relieve the tension. He stepped into the cafe, removing his sunglasses and leather jacket, to find silence spreading faster than the plague. He stopped mid-step in the doorway, eyes glancing between Cooper and April.

"I take it the three of you had a visitor this morning?" he said, sitting at one of the tables. April glanced over at him and smiled.

"Unwelcome visitors are one of the few cons when it comes to running a business in Hollywood, Dad," she said, stepping out from behind the counter as she spoke. She leaned down to kiss her father on the cheek. He grinned up at her, eyes glancing at Brooke.

The blonde had broken free of her thrall and was wearing a puzzled expression, her head tilted curiously in the direction of the newcomer. Mark merely smiled at her.

As April stepped away and back into the kitchen, Mark got a good look at the new girl. Blonde, tanned skin, deep red lips and shocking green eyes. She was very pretty, even dressed in her uniform. She reminded him of someone. He couldn't place who though, so chose to ignore it.

"Dad," Cooper said, waving his hand in front of Mark's face. The older man looked up at his son. "This is Brooke. She's replacing Melody while she's on maternity leave."

Mark peered at the girl again. Her face had begun to turn a light shade of pink as she stood with her eyes cast down, arms behind her back. His eyebrow rose. She was shy all of a sudden. Why could that be?

"It's nice to meet you, Mister Calaway," she piped up, her voice barely above a squeak. Mark stared at her.

"There's no need to be shy around me, Brooke," he said, resting against the back of his seat. She shook her head.

"Sorry, sir; I get nervous around new people." She nodded once and walked off into the storage room, the door slamming shut behind her.

Mark blinked and looked over at Cooper who was flipping chairs down from the tables.

"What was all that about?"

A shrug was all he got in return.

~X~

Brooke could feel the coolness of the refrigerator doors against her back as slid to the ground, holding back the tears that were welling in her eyes. She wasn't shy, no, that wasn't the reason she'd behaved so strangely in front of Mark Calaway. Her eyes had flashed with recognition as soon as he'd stepped through the door. She'd been kidding herself to think she could hide in a busy city forever. She'd barely been in Los Angeles for a month and would now have to hide again, possibly move to a different city if she needed to. She refused to go home.

Home for her wasn't spending time in the Garden of Fire, or curled up in front of the blazing fire in her suite. Home wasn't at the beck and call of Hades or Persephone, and certainly not on bended knee in front of Lady Iremia. Home would never be the chains that bound her to eternity, holding her prisoner in her own world. It would never be Caina.

Home for her meant riding her motorcycle through the streets of Los Angeles. It meant going to Hell Mouth Pool Hall and playing the silly game with Sam. It meant getting to know Willa and Daniel more and more with every passing moment. It meant working at the cafe in the mornings and the restaurant at night. It meant helping Cooper pour drinks and serve customers at the nightclub. It meant laughing at the sarcasm and friendly banter between Xander and Cooper, and watching the love blossom between Xander and April.

Home meant returning to the apartment in the early hours of the morning to find James with his feet resting on the coffee table while he cursed at whatever video game he happened to be paying at the time. It meant watching James try and juggle espresso cups and drop every single one of them, her lungs filling with the laughter to silence even the most cynical demon lord. It meant pancakes with maple syrup and strawberries. Home was freedom to be who she was, not what she was.

When she was in Santa Monica, she could be Brooklyn Paris Static, waitress and bartender, not Princess Brookai Persephone Calaway, crown Princess of Caina and ruler of Ignis Infernalis. She was where she needed to be to become whoever she was meant to be.

The tears she'd been holding back slipped from her cheeks as she was consumed by a feeling of pity. She pitied herself. Her human side was shining through, loud and clear, and she curled her legs closer to her, her head resting on her knees, her mind overwhelmed with feelings of despair and longing. If she was dragged back to Caina, kicking and screaming, she'd never be allowed to return. She would have to say goodbye to her human life, her new friends... to James.

Thinking about leaving James behind brought about a new feeling that made the lump in her throat build. Regret. If she returned to Caina, she wouldn't be around to help him overcome his grief. It was true that Sam, Willa and Daniel were around to help James, but they seemed aloof to his feelings. The only one who really seemed to care was Sam, but he allowed James to fall into the land of despair and grief just as much as the other two did. Brooke was the only one who seemed to want James to forgive himself, not live in the past. The path to redemption was a rocky one, and James had taken his first tentative step towards it. If Brooke left, he'd have no one to help him up when he fell. He needed her as much as she needed him.

James had been the first friend she'd ever made in Los Angeles. It was true that she was starting to develop more intense feelings for him, but if she returned to the Underworld, she wouldn't have the chance to explore those feelings further, or see if they were reciprocated. James seemed much happier when she was around. His face seemed to light up when she walked into the room and she often caught him glancing at her from the side before looking away, signature smirk in place.

Brooke loved the way his lips would curl when he smiled. She loved the mischievous glint in his eye when he was laughing about something with his friends. She also loved his vulnerable moments, those moments of weakness when his pain would seep through. At night, he screamed and cursed in his sleep, but the minute his fingers grazed hers, his demons would grow silent, probably out of confusion. Brooke felt like she needed to be there with him to help him win the fight against his past. He could scream and cry when she was around, reaching the peak of insanity without judgment. She would sit and watch as he exploded, and still be watching him when the dust cleared. For the three or so weeks that she'd known him, she'd figured out for herself that she didn't want to be in the world without him.

If she left him now, she'd never live it down. But the man who'd entered the cafe was here to take her home. She'd known from the minute she saw him who he was.

Lady Iremia's guardian.


	9. Chapter Eight: The Truth Hurts

Chapter Eight: The Truth Hurts

Brooke returned to the apartment later that afternoon with little incident. Mark had left the cafe before she'd returned from the kitchen and not long after that Xander had found her curled up against the refrigerator. Drawing on her innate ability to lie to anyone, she bluffed her way out of it, blaming lack of sleep and stress from moving cities on her break down. He appeared to have believed her and had left her alone.

The rest of the day had gone by as slowly as one would expect in Hollywood, which was to say not at all. Before she knew it, it was quitting time and she was picking up her paycheck and walking home.

As she approached her front door, she was surprised to find it unlocked and open. She froze mid-step, watching the beam of light from inside. A shadow drifted passed it, followed by a muffled voice. It was female, but it wasn't Willa. She took a tentative step forward, listening closely to the conversation.

"She's very clearly not here, Will," the original voice said. There was a stiff laugh.

"I was betting on that. James probably took her with him. Gives us a chance to raid his liquor cabinet."

That voice definitely belonged to Willa, so Brooke summoned her courage and pushed the door open, leaning against the door way. The woman Willa had been speaking to jumped to beside Willa who stood behind the sofa, her finger less-gloved hand holding onto a bottle of wine. She looked stunning, as she usually did, in a black, over-bust corset and fishnet shirt. Brooke smiled at both of them.

"James left for San Francisco this morning, Willa, so how the hell did you get into our apartment?"

Willa grinned at the blonde, her hand on her hip. She brought the bottle of wine to her lips and took a long swig. When she pulled it away, she continued smiling, though she seemed a little off balance.

"I'm aware of that, Fire Hazard. I have a key so he can cry on my shoulder when he screams himself awake every night."

Brooke blinked, looking over at their companion and studying her. She had short, tomato-red hair which was tied in two pigtails at the nape of her neck. She wore thick framed glasses and a single silver stud beneath her bottom lip. Her clothes wore also very different to the classic Gothic style that was Willa's. She wore a baggy red t-shirt with the pocket over one breast, a smug looking cat poking through the top, and a pair of cut off shorts that barely covered her upper thigh. She was barefoot, but her toes were covered in tiny circlets of silver. She was extremely different to the woman gulping wine straight from the bottle.

"Who might you be?" Brooke asked, placing her keys on the dresser by the door. The girl smiled and tucked a loose strand of hair back into her hair.

"I'm Ramona," she said, stepping back again. She seemed intimidated by the blonde in the doorway. Brooke smiled at her, as friendly as she could be.

"Don't try anything, kid," Willa said. Brooke looked over at her, expecting to see her swaying near the coffee table. Instead, Willa was lounging on the sofa, her hand the only thing visible as it rested on the back. "Ramona is my girlfriend, not yours."

Willa's speech was slurred, tipping Brooke off to the fact she was drunk.

"I'll be your ex if you keep this up," Ramona said, sitting down at Willa's feet. The dark haired beauty raised her bare foot, gently nudging it against Ramona's ribs. The red head smiled and pat her leg, her eyes giving away that she wouldn't keep to her word. Her dark brown eyes were full of so much affection, Brooke thought she might burst.

"So why are you drinking here instead of your own apartment?" Brooke asked, removing her coat. Willa's hand shot up over the sofa and pointed at her.

"None of your business, blondie-locks. I do what I want."

Ramona sighed, resting against the sofa.

"The last time you used that excuse, I had to bail you out for being drunk and disorderly in Reno."

Brooke watched the two for a few moments, taking in the scene. The two seemed very intimate, but that didn't bother her at all. What bothered her was the fact she hadn't been told that Willa would be in the apartment while James was gone. Did she not have any sense of boundaries?

Her pocket chimed and vibrated and she retrieved her phone. She had a text message from James.

 _I should warn you that I'll be gone a couple of days. I'll try and be back sooner than that, but I don't know how long my job is going to take. Daniel and Sam will be around to help you if you need anything, but I wouldn't ask Willa for anything. It's the weekend of her birthday and she's probably going to get very drunk, like she usually does. Don't take anything she says to heart.- James_

A few seconds later and another text came through.

 _Also don't be surprised if she's in our apartment right now with a bottle of scotch in her hand. She does that. I don't mind but you can kick her out if you want to be alone.- James_

Brooke grinned and sent a text in reply.

 _You must be clairvoyant; she's currently lounging on your sofa with her girlfriend. The only thing you got wrong was her poison of choice.- Brooke_

Her phone chimed again just as she was stuffing it back in her pocket.

 _The rarest thing in the world is when I'm wrong. Second guess, a bottle of Merlot.-James (who shouldn't be texting right now as he's sitting in a movie theater.)_

Brooke grinned again, looking up to the two ladies sitting on the sofa. They were both staring intently at her, though Willa had a goofy grin on her face, her eyes glassing over.

"I take it that's lover-boy?" she asked, her speech even more slurred than before. Brooke nodded.

"What are you drinking?"

Willa grinned and held up the bottle, showing off the shiny red label.

"Only the cheapest and most disgusting bottle of wine I could find."

"She's drinking Pinot Noir," Ramona clarified, reaching over to take the bottle from her inhibited lover. Willa wrenched the bottle away, placing her foot on Ramona's chest and forcing her away from her.

"Uh uh, mine. Not for you."

Brooke left the two alone, returning to look at her phone as she wandered down the hallway into her bedroom.

 _Wrong again, love. Something called Pinot Noir is going to help her to an early grave. I don't understand why people drink.- Brooke_

Closing her door behind her, Brooke kicked off her boots and flopped down onto her bed, finally able to relax after a full day on her feet. The break down she'd had in the storage room hadn't helped her at all, and her eyes were sore from crying so much. When she'd left the room and found Mark gone and the cafe open and busy, she'd been relieved to figure out that her mother's guardian had no idea who she was. She was still able to stay in Los Angeles. As long as he didn't find her and drag her back to Caina, she was in the clear and free to be who she felt she was meant to be, whoever that turned out to be.

The chime from her phone brought her back from her daze and she reached for it.

 _Wow. I must be losing my touch. I've known her so long you'd figure I know what color underwear she's wearing, even if I'm miles away.- James_

Brooke laughed, almost dropping her phone on her face. It vibrated again as she took a deep breathe.

 _Call me a pervert if you want, but I think she's wearing her 'sexy' black lace ones. It is her birthday after all, but she'll want to treat Mona more than herself, if you know what I mean.- James._

Deciding not to shout her question, she pulled up Willa's text conversation and typed.

 _Please don't find this strange, but James is guessing you're wearing your sexy black lace underwear. Is he correct?- Brooke._

It took a minute but Brooke got her answer. The sound of clomping feet resonated down the hall way and Willa barreled into the room, Ramona right behind her, trying to retrieve the spilling bottle of wine.

"Tell the flaming turd I'm not wearing any," she chortled, dopey grin still on her face. Brooke paled and caught herself before she laughed. Before she could stop her, Willa had given the bottle of wine to Ramona and had belly-flopped onto Brooke's bed, her dark curls bobbing. "Actually, tell him to fuck off and do his job... You know what, gimme that."

Brooke looked up at Ramona.

"Is she always like this?"

Ramona smiled. "Only when she's completely wasted. It gets worse, trust me."

Brooke smiled and turned back to Willa who had stolen her phone and was responding to James. She peered at her screen, watching the older woman's fingers dart across the touch pad.

 _Hey, fucknut. I'm not wearing any for a start, and for a finish, get to work, ya lazy ass. Don't make me come up there-Willa_

As she hit send, Willa dropped Brooke's phone into her hands, watching the blonde closely.

It was quiet for a few minutes, the ticking of the clock in the hallway the only sound, as well as the passing cars in the streets of Santa Monica.

"Willa," Ramona said, breaking the silence. Willa looked up at her, dopey smile still on her face. Ramona grinned right back at her. "You may as well ask her."

Brooke's eyebrow rose as she looked between the two women. Willa rolled her eyes, flipping onto her back.

"What are you doing tonight?" she asked, looking up at the blonde. Brooke blinked.

"Are you asking me to go out?"

"Sure, if you're not busy anyway."

"I'm not."

"Good. Wear something slutty and meet us in the lobby."

Before Brooke could respond, Ramona stepped forward to pull Willa to her feet and drag her from the room. All Brooke could do was blink. Had that just happened?

After a minute, she climbed to her feet and into her closet where her new clothes were hanging.

What constituted as slutty in Santa Monica?

~X~

From the top of an apartment building, James could see his target leaving. He could also see the Golden Gate bridge and the Bay, but his eyes were on the woman leaving the hotel across from him. His eyes narrowed as he watched her. She was medium height, red haired, dark skinned and fairly simply dressed in blue jeans and a white shirt. She looked like a suburban mom, but James knew better. The slight bulge at the base of her spine tipped him off to her true nature.

He smirked, keeping his eyes on her as he leaped off the side of the building It was a five story drop, and he dropped like a pin, arms spread to slow his descent. He slammed into the ground, bending his knees as he went. His trench coat curled around his ankles as he looked up. No one had seen him drop. Letting out a sigh of relief, he walked out of the alley and into the streets. He spotted his target again and stalked off down the street. She was on the opposite side, so he had to dodge through traffic, but he managed to. He'd always had quick reflexes, and now was no different.

The San Francisco streets were probably busier than usual, allowing James to blend into the crowd. Club goers and ravers filled the sidewalk, stepping passed James as he tracked the woman. She had no idea she was being stalked by anyone, let alone the best information broker on the west coast. By the time he was right behind her, it would have been too late for her to do anything about it anyway.

James took hold of her arm and dragged her into an alleyway, pushing her right to the back.

"Hey what's the big id- James?"

He removed his hood and balaclava, proud smirk in place.

"Hello, Levanica," he said, leaning against the wall, his eyes drawn to the busy streets. People hurried passed by without a second glance to the two old friends in the alley. He turned back to the dark skinned woman who gave him a very confused look. "You didn't think I'd find you, did you?"

Levanica took a step back, hands in her pockets.

"I was hoping you wouldn't. Look, I can pay you back-"

"I'm not here about money."

"Then why did you grab me and throw me into an alley?"

"The same reason I rough up everyone from the seventh level."

Levanica rolled her topaz eyes, staring at her companion.

"Really? You still think someone in Violence manipulated your demon half to kill her? You know we're not that smart. Hell, why come after me? I'm a lower level pain demon. I'm no threat you, physically or mentally. You know that."

James' eyebrow twitched with every word she spoke, his temper rising. He'd traveled five and a half hours to get information out of her, and now she was trying to point him in the wrong direction. That didn't fly well with him at all.

"Levanica, I swear by the nine layers of hell and every realm of the heavens that I will crush you if you're lying to me," he growled.

Levanica simply smirked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Clearly you haven't cut him off completely."

James blinked.

"What?"

Levanica reached into her backpack and pulled out a small compact. She flipped it open and handed it to him.

James surveyed his reflection. He still looked like himself, except for the six black dots of varying sizes under his right eye and the red flame-like design surrounding his left eye. His eyes themselves were blood shot and yellow instead of their cool brown.

His hand jerked and the mirror dropped, shattering against the ground. Levanica continued smirking, retrieving the broken pieces of her compact.

James fell back against the wall, his whole body shaking. He raked his fingers through his wind-blown hair and slid down, holding his head between his forearms, the image of the demon still circulating through his brain. He knew those eyes better than anyone and he hated them. Those eyes belonged to the reason he was alone in the world, why he was no longer a father. They belonged to the demon that had destroyed everything he'd ever cared about.

Levanica leaned down to rest a hand on James' shoulder.

"Go home, James. Go back to L.A. You won't find what you're looking for here."

He barely heard her through the blood rushing to his head. He curled his arms around his knees. He wouldn't allow the demon inside him to win. Struggling to regain his composure, he placed a hand on the ground, sending his rage downwards.

Levanica jumped back, yelping as the ground beneath them began to quake. She stumbled backwards, landing in a heap beside a dumpster.

James' head rose, the yellow in his eyes deepening. He made eye contact with Levanica and growled, balling his hand into a fist. She blinked at him, fear darting across her face as she watched the world around her begin to crumble.

The people walking passed the alley way, stopped, tripping over themselves to find safe refuge until the shaking stopped. Cars screeched to a stop as people flung themselves into doorways and under staircases.

Eventually, the shaking stopped. Tentatively, the people of San Francisco returned to their lives, ignoring the plight of the man in the alley.

James blinked, staring at Levanica as she rose to her feet. Sensitivity returned to his fingers and he placed it on the wall behind him, using the building to help him back to his feet. He leaned against it, catching his breath.

"I'm so glad I'm on your side," Levanica whispered, watching the people on the street.

James didn't say anything, instead pulling his balaclava back on and returning his hood to its rightful position. Strands of blonde and black hair fell into his eyes as he stepped out into the streets. He could hear Levanica calling for him, but he chose to ignore her. He wanted nothing more than to leave San Francisco and return home to the safety of his apartment. To Brooke.

He wrapped his arms around him, the chilly night air biting at the exposed skin near his eyes. He looked at the ground, ignoring the sound of laughter as it rang out in his head. He wouldn't allow the demon to win.

Never again would Jeritza hurt anyone.


	10. Chapter Nine: The Siren's Song (Pt 1)

Chapter Nine: The Siren's Song (Part One)

A.N: The songs Xander is singing when Brooke arrives at the club and when she goes upstairs won't be incredibly obvious to those who don't listen to them, but they're Nickelback songs called Midnight Queen and This Afternoon respectively. All Rejects songs are by Nickelback, Seether or 12 Stones, so I don't own any part of them except for my copy of the songs. There are a select few others picked and chosen by other artists like Ronan Keating and Adam Lambert but they're not very common. Honestly, since Bill Kaulitz is the face and style model for Xander, I should have used Tokio Hotel but their songs didn't match his writing style. When April/Angel sings, she sings a song from a local artist down here in Australia; Jen Lush, who transformed it from a short poem by Kevin Brophy into a beautiful song. She is amazing. Anyway, the song is called The Night's Insomnia and with her permission I have added it here. Check out Jen Lush on YouTube! Please enjoy Brooke's first try of alcohol. ~ExI.

When Brooke stepped into the lobby, Willa immediately burst into a fit of laughter that made her spill her wine. Ramona clapped a hand to her forehead as she attempted to stop her girlfriend from flailing her arms wildly. Brooke blinked and looked down at her outfit.

She'd had to look up the definition of 'slutty' and the images she saw were definitely not her style. So she'd chosen a slightly less provocative red off-shoulder t-shirt that showed off her belly with black torn jeans, her fishnet tights peaking through the holes. The knee high boots she wore with her black moto jacket finished the look. Looking back at Willa, she smirked.

"What exactly is so funny about my outfit?"

"That was the outfit I picked for you," Willa slurred, steadying herself against a wall. "James said he thought you'd look hot in red so he said all red clothing."

"Good thing you bought her wardrobe and not Daniel or she'd be wearing vinyl pants everywhere she goes," Ramona added, curling her fingers around Willa's. "Come on, let's go. The Star de Lune is gonna be packed tonight because the Rejects are playing and I don't want to miss it. Plus there's a cover charge. Let's go!"

Brooke grinned as she followed them, reminding herself that because she technically worked there, she didn't have to pay and could use the side staff entrance, a fact that was pointed out to her by Cooper when she arrived at the doors.

"Even if you don't work in the club part, you're still staff. Use the side door." He swiped his ID card on the scanner and pushed the back door open, raising an eyebrow as Willa left a sloppy kiss on his cheek, dragging her girlfriend into the club. Brooke watched them and shook her head.

"You're not meant to be working tonight, Cooper. Why are you here?"

"My girlfriend is the drummer in the band. Come on."

Brooke followed Cooper into the club, following the ever-winding corridor into the main club where Xander was on stage, guitar in hand, screaming into a microphone about someone being his 'midnight queen'. Willa and Ramona were on the dance floor, bumping and grinding to the powerful rifts emanating from the stage. April was sitting near the bar chatting to someone with dark red hair. She waved to Cooper as he wound his way through the throng of dancing people. She bobbed and weaved her way over to the bar, popping out behind April, her palms pressed against the bar. A woman with long brown hair grinned at her as she looked up.

"What can I get for ya?!" she called. April turned and looked at her, spinning in her seat to notice Brooke looking sheepishly up at the board, eyeing the different drinks she could get. She'd apparently gone to the cocktail bar, as opposed to the sports bar on the opposite side of the club.

April leaned towards the bartender.

"Anne, this is Brooke. She works in the cafe."

Anne nodded, turning away from the two girls.

Brooke blinked at her boss.

"But I didn't order anything."

The red-haired male that April had been speaking to laughed a hearty laugh and raised his glass. It was half filled with an ember liquid, several ice-cubes making it look a lot more full than it was.

"House rules, baby-doll. People who work for April drink the Xan-man Special their first time in the club."

April laughed as Anne returned with a blood-red cocktail in a v-shaped glass, the rim sprinkled with white chocolate. A strawberry had been carefully pressed onto the rim as well, a raspberry sitting beside it. Brooke looked at it with interest, not sure exactly what to do.

Anne raised an eyebrow.

"This is where you pay for it, sweetie. Cash or charge?"

Brooke reached into her pocket and pulled out a card, handing it to Anne.

"You were right, Angel, she is like a new-born deer," the red-head said, taking a swig of his drink, the ice rattling against the side. Brooke peered at him, holding her glass with both hands. This was a very different situation to when she'd been here previously. Xander had ordered the drinks last time and he'd only gotten her a raspberry soda. She hadn't paid for it either.

"I've never drank before," she confessed. April gave her a sweet smile and gestured for the red-head and Brooke to follow her.

The doe-eyed waitress followed the black-haired woman through the crowd and up a spiral staircase that lead to the glass platform that was above the dance floor; the VIP loft. Sitting in the corner was a brown-haired woman with a bright pink streak in her hair, sitting with a very large man with short brown hair. They waved at April as the owner of the club sat down. She smiled in return.

The red-head flopped down into a beanbag not far from April and rested his leg on the arm of her seat.

"Why does it feel quieter up here? What magic is this?"

Brooke felt her blood run cold as she sat down beside April on the sofa.

"Acoustics, dear brother, acoustics," she replied, looking over the railing as Xander switched out his electric guitar for an acoustic one, inadvertently emphasizing her point. He began playing a playful melody that got everyone on the dance floor on their feet and dancing. She waved at him before turning her attention back to her companions. "This is my brother, Gunner. Gun, this is Brooke."

"Ah, the famous Brooke. Nice to meet you," Gun said, taking another swig of his drink. He raised an eyebrow at Brooke over the rim of his glass. "I'd at least take a sip of your drink, kid, or Xander will be offended."

Brooke scowled.

"Why does everyone in your family call me kid?" she asked, looking between the Calaways. "I'm twenty-one!"

April smirked.

"Because to us you are a kid."

"Yeah," Gun added, placing his empty glass on the table in front of him. "We turn thirty-two in August."

"It's not meant to be an insult; more like a term of endearment."

Brooke nodded and looked over the railing at the crowd. Willa was spinning Ramona around, giggling all the while. Neither of them seemed to have noticed she'd gone missing. Maybe Willa knew Brooke could get them in through the side door and had used her. She wasn't surprised if that was the case; people used her a lot. Her mentor had used her to elevate his status in Caina to the point he'd gone from lowly demon to lord of a domain. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a large sip of the drink she'd been given. It burned against her throat, as if tearing away at the flesh on its way to her stomach. She coughed, putting the glass on the table. Gunner laughed, throwing his head back as the full-bellied eruption took hold of him. April giggled, putting down her glass and handing Brooke a napkin.

"Why would you give something that strong to someone who hasn't drank before?!"

April smiled that sweet smile again and leaned back in her seat.

"If you can't handle one drink, you can't handle Xander and I's constant teasing. It's called a hazing, kid. You'll get used to it."

Brooke scowled again as Gunner handed her an ice cube from his drink.

"Suck on that; it'll help with the burn."

As the watery cube melted in her mouth, Brooke heard Xander's voice echo through the speakers.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you're all in for a special treat tonight. For one night only, coming out of her semi-retirement, please welcome to the stage; the one, the only... Angel!"

April rolled her eyes and stood. She left her two companions and wound her way downstairs, stepping onto the stage. She sat on a stool and pulled her neon green acoustic guitar onto her lap, raising one of her long legs up. Brooke stepped to the edge with Gunner and watched as April adjusted the stand and smiled, waving her fingers to someone in the crowd.

"Good evening everybody," she said into the mic, adjusting it against so it sat near her mouth. Behind her, Xander was setting up another stool and mic. April tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and scanned the crowd. "This song is called The Night's Insomnia and it was originally a poem written by my little sister."

A spotlight flooded the crowd and landed on a red-haired woman sitting in a booth, her features exactly like April's; full lips, high cheek bones and long fluffy lashes. Her cheeks flushed red as the crowd cheers, hiding her face behind her hands. The man next to her laughed and grabbed her wrist, making her wave. The crowd laughed.

April grinned from on stage.

"I'm sorry, Bunny-Boo, but it had to be done. So, as I said this song is called The Night's Insomnia."

April gently began to pluck at the strings of her guitar, soon joined by her husband. Her voice, echoing with melancholy and serenity moved through the crowd, as if entrancing the audience like a siren song.

" _If the night is long and there can be no sleep,  
If the lullaby is nowhere in your heart,  
If the morning comes to its new day exhausted,  
Exhausted,"_

The echo of Xander's gravelly voice against April's sent waves of emotion through the crowd, piercing Brooke's heart. She couldn't help but think of James and how very little sleep he got due to chronic nightmares. He always looked exhausted and no matter what she did, his grief still cast shadows on his face. He could have the brightest smile on his face, but his eyes were dark and clouded with memories of times long past.

" _If_ _all your novels strike wrong tones,  
If your waking dream is always of oblivion,  
If those cold coins of regret buy nothing now,  
And some high court sits in sleepless confusion.  
If the night is the one who won't leave you,  
Exhausted._

 _Close your eyes,  
Close your eyes,  
And put your head just here where my own poor heart has learned,  
That the night, poor night, wide eyed and blind,  
Must to cling to you, its only... companion."_

April stopped singing, allowing the twin guitars to weave their melody. As Brooke listened, a lump built up in her throat.

James was out there somewhere in the night, alone and dealing with his demons. She needed to get back to him, find him wherever he was.

" _Close your eyes,  
Close your eyes,  
And put your head just here where my own poor heart has learned,  
That the night, poor night, wide eyed and blind,  
Must to cling to you, its only... companion._

 _Exhausted.  
Exhausted.  
Exhausted."_

As the melody slipped away, Brooke left her glass on the table and bolted down the stairs, barely sparing Willa and Ramona a glance as she dashed for the door. Into the roar of the LA Nightlife she fled, weaving her way through the sea of people. She was almost tempted to let out her white feathered wings but chose against it; she could run faster in heels than she could fly, only slowed down mildly by running into people.

When she reached the overpass leading into Santa Monica, she stopped and leaned against the wall, catching her breath. She could feel her lungs burning and her knees quaking. She was about to collapse, and she had no idea where James could be. The silver ring around her left middle finger suppressed all of her powers so she couldn't easily track him, and she had no idea if he was back in Los Angeles or still in San Francisco. She had no idea where she was, either.

She slipped down the wall, curling her arms around her knees as she cried. Angry, ugly sobs ricocheted around her chest and up her throat. The sounds of passing cars barely punctured her brain as she curled tighter into herself.

How was she going to find James before something happened to him? She had no way of getting to San Francisco, and even if she did how was she supposed to find him? He could be anywhere in the entire city.

These thoughts raged in her head, causing her to jump and fall when someone put their hand on her shoulder. She looked up, blinking away tears. Short brown hair, stubble across his jaw, tanned skin, kind eyes. She knew this person.

"Daniel?"

Daniel's smile quirked to one side.

"Why are you crying against a wall?" he asked, blunt as a sledgehammer. She sniffed and took the tissue he offered.

"I got a little overwhelmed at the club; there were so many people," she lied, wiping away the stray tears on her cheeks. There was still a tightness in her throat and chest but the sobs were gone. Daniel's kind smile made her smile softly in return.

"Come on, firecracker; let me take you home."

Brooke took his outstretched hand, grateful that a friend had found her and not someone else.

~X~

The door to James' apartment was ajar when Daniel and Brooke arrived, Brooke wearing Daniel's jacket. From inside they could hear sobbing and consoling; James and Sam.

"He's so close to the surface, Sammie. I can feel him clawing his way up again."

"We won't let him, Jimmy. You have to know that."

Brooke pushed the door open and sat beside James on the sofa, curling her fingers between his. Sam smiled when he saw her, nodding to Daniel as he flopped into the corner seat. James looked up at Brooke, tears streaking down his face. Red marks lined his eye, almost like paint, but they were slowly fading. His eyes were bloodshot and welling with a new batch of tears. His lip quivered as if he were about to cry. Her free arm coiled around his neck, pulling her close to him.

"Shh, it's okay, James. Nothing can hurt you."

Sam let out a chuckle.

"He's not worried about something hurting him," he said, leaning back in his seat.

James, with what little strength he had, raised his arm and flipped Sam the middle finger, resting his head against Brooke's shoulder.

"Shut up, Sammie," he croaked. Sam smirked, only for Daniel to interject.

"Sam has a point, Jimmy. Eventually you're gonna have to come clean about everything. Firecracker has to know what's going on with you so she can help us to help you."

"You don't help me at all, Dan," James retorted, leaning up. He sniffed indignantly and looked at Brooke. "Do they?"

Brooke blinked and reached up to tuck his wayward hair behind his ear. He was still distraught, but he'd managed to compose himself enough to have a coherent conversation.

"Not everyone's method of assistance works, James. They do what they can, but you have a wall up to stop them getting too close."

James blinked at her. He looked down at his hand, fingers still intertwined with hers, and smiled. Warmth was flooding into him from her hand and he could feel Jeritza's claws fading from his mind. Brooke was holding him back, even if she didn't know it. Her proximity was pushing the demon back.

"The wall is to protect them," he murmured, hoping only Brooke heard. She smiled.

Sam and Daniel, on the other hand, let out bellowing fits of laughter. James' head jerked to look at them as they unleashed waves of pure ecstasy.

Once he'd regained his composure, Daniel wiped away imaginary tears.

"No, Jimmy, no; the wall isn't to protect us. It's to make sure you don't make a damn mess."

Sam nodded in agreement and James pouted, resting his head on Brooke's shoulder again. She smiled and rested her head against his, squeezing his fingers between hers. He squeezed back, eyeing Daniel and Sam. The shaggy blonde grinned as he leaned forward.

"Jimmy, you have to tell her. If _something_ happens and Brooke is left out of the loop, something even worse could happen."

"Yeah, but how do you broach that subject?"

"Broach what subject?" Brooke asked. Daniel and Sam looked at each other before the brunette swung his legs over the back of the sofa and flopped backwards, letting his head hang off the edge.

"Well, lemme ask you this, firecracker; you believe in demons?"

Brooke blinked and glanced at Sam who smirked. Sam had warned her that his friends weren't as they seemed, and she was smart enough to do the math; four friends, four Horsemen. Even the names and genders matched up. Sam had already confessed he was the Horseman of Famine and Pestilence, Saturius, so being around the other Horsemen at all times made sense. There was no way she could be wrong. She smirked and raised her free hand, removing her ring.

A ball of fire appeared in her hand, called up from Hell itself, and flickered momentarily shifting shape. It turned into a Chinese dragon, coiled around her wrist and lowered its head onto the palm of her hand, coughing up a tiny flame.

James starred wide-eyed. When the dragon disappeared from her hand, Brooke looked down at him, her eyes pleading with him not to be frightened. Slowly, his lips curled into a semi-smirk.

"You're an elementalist?" he asked, staring into her eyes. She shrugged.

"Sort of. The other elements are a little harder for me to control than fire."

"She's a pyromancer from Heresy, James," Sam said, resting his head on his hand. Brooke nodded, leaning slightly. James sat up and looked at her.

"Why did you chose to come here?"

"I felt as if I wasn't reaching my full potential in Heresy and wanted to see what the human world was like."

She placed the silver vine ring on her finger again, feeling her powers be crushed under the weight of an unknown force. Her mentor had given her the ring to protect her and keep her from her mother's view. Removing it and using even a minuscule amount of power could immediately tip Queen Iremia of her daughter's whereabouts. Brooke waited with baited breath for the tornado announcing her mother's presence to destroy the street.

The only sound heard were the usual sounds of Santa Monica; screaming from the pier's roller coaster, traffic and the clubs.

She exhaled in relief and looked at James.

"Does the She-Bitch know you're here?"

She shook her head.

"The ring I took off makes me appear human to everyone, including my mo- Lady Iremia." Brooke coughed to cover herself, earning herself a snicker from Sam. Daniel smirked and sat up, spinning to look at her.

"Alright, firecracker. We know who you are... who are we?"

Brooke smirked and leaned back, still holding James' hand.

"The Four Horsemen. Well, three of them. I assume Wasteland is still at the club with Ramona."

James smiled.

"Damn, you are good. Which of us is which though?"

Brooke pointed at Daniel and Sam.

"Demyx and Saturius. Strife and Famine. So you would be-"

James covered her mouth before she could say his true name.

"I get it. Horseman of War. Please don't call me by that name though. I stopped being one of the Horsemen a long time ago."

He stood, pulling his hand free. Brooke's eyes narrowed as she followed his path. He walked around the sofa to the massive trunk under the window. He sat on top of it, letting out a sigh.

"Please don't tell your superiors we're here. We stopped working for the She-Bitch a long time ago," he said, looking over at Brooke. He silently pleaded with her, hoping they were close enough for his fear to sink in to her. Brooke had been staying in his room almost every night since that first night, and majority of the time they stayed up and chatted, getting to know each other until the sun rose through the window.

"Speak for yourself," Daniel said, folding his arms behind his head. Brooke looked over at him.

"You still work for Lady Iremia?"

"Three of us do. James is the only one who doesn't," Sam added, staring at his friend. "But we're brothers-in-arms; we're not going to rat out our friend."

"Those who ride together, die together," Daniel said, earning himself a fist-bump from Sam and a smirk from James.

The dark haired man looked over at his room mate.

"Please, Brooke. Don't tell her I'm here."

Brooke smiled and stood, feeling her confidence building. James trusted her enough now to tell her who he was, though she'd had her suspicions from the start. The Horseman of War had betrayed Lady Iremia for unknown reasons and disappeared into the mortal world to hide. But she didn't see him as the wayward Horseman. He was James, her friend and roommate. He was Jimmy, Daniel, Sam and Willa's companion and partner in crime.

As she stepped towards him, her courage growing, she thought about the song she'd heard at the club. James spent his night's tossing and turning in bed, barely sleeping and driven to the edge by nightmares. He'd told her once that her companionship had all but gotten rid of them. His past still haunted him, but he was learning to let go.

Brooke stopped in front of him and put her arms around his neck. Out of instinct, or possibly a need to be close to her, James put his hands on her hips and pulled her close. She now stood between his legs, close enough that she could feel the tension in his thighs. He looked up at her, blinking.

"I promise, James. Your secret is safe with me."

She tangled her hands in his hair, gently tugging his head back. She leaned down and kissed him on the lips, slowly at first, only to be drawn in when he pulled her onto his lap. James' mouth opened slightly, allowing her prying tongue access. He pulled her as tightly to him as he could, feeling her nails digging into his back.

A wolf whistle broke them apart, followed by a set of musical giggles. Brooke jerked away, knowing that Willa and Ramona had returned. They stood in the doorway, one smirking like the Cheshire cat, the other rummaging in her nap sack for something.

"You've been here a month and you've already stolen James away," Willa said, her words still very slurred. Brooke felt her cheeks heating up. James laughed beside her.

"You saw this coming, Will?"

"From a mile away, sweetheart. Knew it from the day she walked in that she'd steal your heart."

Ramona finished rummaging in her bag and produced a twenty dollar bill, which she handed to Willa.

"How'd you know, though?"

Willa shrugged and kissed Ramona on the temple, the smell of liquor lingering in the air as she pulled her girlfriend away, disappearing into the apartment across from the hall. Daniel snapped his fingers, causing the door to gently close behind them.

"Willa has a way of knowing things. We all do," he said, looking Brooke in the eye. Her cheeks flushed an even darker red. James smirked beside her and reached up to touch her back under her shirt. She shivered at his touch.

"Can you guys go? Brooke and I have a lot to talk about."

Daniel and Sam nodded and quickly left the apartment, leaving James alone with the blonde. He looked up at her, willing her to look at him. She blinked before turning to face him.

"What did you need to talk to me about?"

James stood and winked, kissing her forehead. He disappeared into the kitchen. Brooke stared after him.

Were all men this damn confusing?


	11. Chapter Ten: The Siren's Call (Pt 2)

Chapter Ten: The Siren's Call (Part Two)

James grinned as he flipped a pancake in the pan he was holding, shining those pearly-white teeth at Brooke as she stared at him from the dining table. He hadn't said a word to her about what he needed to talk to her about and it was making her more curious than ever. He was holding himself so proudly as he cooked that she thought maybe he'd immediately forgotten what he needed to say, but as he stacked the pancakes on a plate and brought them over, his eyes darkened. His demons were coming to play again.

He sat down and shook his head, running his fingers through his hair. Brooke reached across and held his hand.

"James, please talk to me. It's not a good idea to hold everything in."

He gave her a soft smile and reached across to a cabinet sitting beside the table. On it was a beautiful frame holding a photograph, taken several years ago, of James and a woman. In the picture, James was standing behind the woman, making a heart on her stomach with her fingers. Her hands were below his, holding a rectangular card saying 'Player 3: Loading' in pink writing. James placed it in front of Brooke and pointed to the woman.

"This is Maya, Lucy's mother. We took this the day we announced she was pregnant with Lulu. I'd been in the human world for five years when we took this."

Brooke looked at the picture then back to him, giving his hand a squeeze.

"What happened to her?"

"Lady Iremia gave me orders to infiltrate the human world and find out if any of her enemies were here. I came to Los Angeles because it was the closest city to the portal I stepped out of." He grinned. "I came out at the bus station, funnily enough. Maya had just come in from New York City. I saw her and immediately knew I'd never be the same." He leaned on his hand, looking at the grinning face of Maya. He smiled softly, tracing his finger over her features. "That was about ten years ago."

"You left Lady Iremia's service two years ago, what happened in the eight years before that?" Brooke asked, keeping her voice gentle. He was finally being open and she didn't want to ruin that by prying too hard. If she did, he might close up and never open up to her again.

"The eight years before that were filled with me working, falling in love with Maya and creating Lucy. Everything was going so well..."

James' face became stricken as if someone had played a movie of some terrible memory. He pulled his hand away from hers and stood, leaning against the wall beside the cabinet. Brooke watched him, hoping he wasn't going to lash out.

"I was considering giving up my demonic nature when I heard the She-Bitch's voice again. She sent me out hunting witches. Can you believe that? In the city protected by the Calaway witches, I was sent out hunting them!" he leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees.

"April is a witch?" Brooke asked after a moment, watching James. He nodded once then looked back down at the picture.

"Maya was her student. April came to think of her as a little sister."

Brooke blinked, looking down at the picture. The woman was beautiful with long dark hair, olive skin and a set of dark brown eyes. She was wearing a light blue dress which clung snugly to her baby bump. Brooke could tell by how James was holding her in the picture that he loved her with his whole heart.

"What... what happened to her?"

James took a deep breath and leaned back against the wall.

"I was down at the Pier when I heard Iremia's voice in my head again, asking for the demon. She gave him new orders. I'd learned long ago that I have zero control over him, and any mention of his name causes the demon to come to the surface." He stared at her. "Please don't judge me for the things he's done. I couldn't bear it if you left me now."

Brooke smiled.

"I'll never leave."

James nodded and rested his head against the wall as if willing himself to speak about the horrible truth inside his heart.

"His orders were to kill a witch in Santa Monica. Maya."

Brooke felt her heart drop. Her mother had ordered the death of an innocent woman, causing the man before her to slip into oblivion. He was struggling to keep himself afloat in the sea of misery he called home.

James looked at her as she contemplated this news. When Brooke didn't immediately react, he took another breath and sat down next to her.

"By the time it was over and I came back, he had murdered Maya in our bedroom and left her bloody. I had blood on my hands, her blood. I held her so close, begging the gods to bring her back but it was useless. She was gone, taken from me by the She-Bitch."

James dropped his head onto the table, hiding his grief-stricken face from her. His fingers curled into a fist close to the photograph. He was reaching into the past for Maya, willing her to come back again, to fill up the hole in his heart.

Brooke reached out and held his fist, grazing her thumb against his whitening knuckles. Without moving, James let out a sob.

"Lucy c-came... Sam brought Lucy home and she came in. She saw what I'd done and freaked out. My heart broke when she screamed at me. She called me a monster and ran out of the house." James peaked up over his forearm at Brooke, wincing slightly as the memory flashed in front of his eyes. "I chased after her to explain, to try and help my little girl, but she ran into the street and was hit by a car. I lost everything that day."

Brooke swallowed back the lump in her throat, holding tightly to his hand. She couldn't muster the courage to say anything, but she wouldn't leave him when he was like this. He needed her, now more than ever, to be his crutch. To hold him up as his grief forced him down. He held her fingers just as tight, seemingly finding courage in her where he couldn't find it in himself.

"At their funeral, I renounced my position as Horseman of War and told Iremia to go fuck herself. I refuse to ever work for her again."

Brooke stood, momentarily releasing his hand as she came around the table to his side, curling her arms around him. At her touch, he broke. The floodgates opened and he wept, wept for the loss of his partner and everything they'd created. He reached for the photograph, pulling it closer to him.

She reached down to help him, her skin grazing against the wooden bracelet around his wrist. Upon contact, images flashed in her mind.

Her mother chained to a slab, beaten, bloody and semi-conscious. Her clothes were tattered and ripped, revealing more of her porcelain skin than she would have liked. Standing at the head of the slab was a dark shadow, nothing but a sickening yellow grin visible. Brooke immediately pulled away, the motion so abrupt that she stepped into the bench.

James looked up at her, tears still streaking down his face. He blinked at her.

"Brooke?"

The images faded from Brooke's mind and she looked down at the birthmark on hand. It was dark, almost black. Her brother was calling to her. The ring around her finger stifled the connection to her twin, but they were always connected. She could feel his worry growing, knowing that he'd seen what she had.

"It's nothing," Brooke breathed, holding onto the bench. James gave her a skeptical look. She shook her head. "It's nothing, really, just overloaded with emotion. I'm okay."

She reached out again, taking his offered hand. Warmth ran between them. James smiled.

"Thank you, Brooke, for understanding and not leaving."

She stepped closer to him and kissed him again, softly this time, hoping to show him how much she cared.

"I will never leave you."

~X~

The sun was rising over the Los Angeles horizon when Mark finally went to sleep. He'd been out all night and day, searching for his missing daughter. He'd had no contact from Lasombra about the case and his efforts to contact Serenity had gone unanswered again. Once again when he'd tried to flame out to see her, Hades had sent him back with the same old warning.

Even Persephone was out of contact, which was unlike her, so he'd stalked through LA on a mad quest to find someone, anyone that felt out of place. Brookai could be anywhere and look like anyone, so his efforts had been in vain. He'd tried searching for someone who looked at least similar to Blakius but had come up empty. He was so unique looking that no one else looked like him. He knew his son was worried about his sister but there was no point searching for her if he had no idea what she even looked like. So he chose to rest and try again the next day. He wouldn't stop until she was home with her mother.

As his dream materialized around him, he blinked. Everything was so vivid, he was unsure whether he was dreaming or something else had happened. When an icy chill bit at his exposed skin, burning as ice usually did, he realized it wasn't a dream. He was in Frontinus Mordent, Blakius' domain in the lower levels of the Underworld. He blinked. What the hell was he doing here?

He felt something soft against his jeans and he looked down.

What looked to be a cat was nuzzling his leg. It was the same ice blue as everything else around him, with dark blue spots lining its back. It had big ears, covered in fluff, and partially webbed paws. The tip of its long tail touched his hand, covering two of his fingers in thick ice. It mewled and darted away, running up the snowy slope in front of him and sitting. After a minute, it turned its head and meowed, the sound like cat claws on a chalkboard. Mark winced and peered passed it.

In front of the cat through a thick layer of icy fog was a castle. Its pale blue exterior almost blended into the snowy mountains beside it. Several of the spires were covered in snow. Surrounding the castle was a large wall, made of several different shades of blue blocks. A large gate materialized through the fog, open and inviting.

The cat meowed again and Mark assumed the little thing was trying to lead him to the castle. He took a few hesitant steps and the cat moved, heading towards to castle. He followed not far behind it.

Upon reaching the gates, the cat darted through them and inside, diving nose first into the snow by the fountain. It exploded into a white puff. Mark blinked and raised an eyebrow. What a strange creature. Tearing his gaze from the fountain, he took in his surroundings.

Lining both of the outside walls he could see were beautiful balconies, carved from ice and made to look like icicles. The intricacies in the door frame became clear; beautiful snowflakes and delicately carved letters reading 'Cum Nix Cadit, Natura Acquiescit.' Mark's rudimentary understanding of Latin translated it for him.

"When snow falls, nature listens," he read, stepping onto the wall of the fountain. It cracked like ice under his weight. The window above the door was stain glass, fashioned in such a way that it looked like a glass collage of Blakius himself, holding a very large ax and scythe. The pointed crown on his head was made of chunks of thick ice, giving a more lifelike illusion. The castle itself looked more like a cathedral than any castle he had ever seen. Even the Amethyst Palace in the lowest level of Caina looked more like a castle, despite its beautiful spires of crystal. He shook his head; why were Serenity and her children so grandiose?

The doors to the castle were ajar and he could hear voices. One male, which he assumed was Blakius, and one female. He hoped it was Brookai, but doubt crept into his mind. He slowly made his way to the doors.

"It's useless to argue, Anastasia; I do not want nor need a queen."

Mark stopped at the doors, poking his head in.

Blakius was standing in the throne room with a woman. She was slim, average height and brunette. In one hand she held a staff, the other was to her face, her fingers digging into the corners of her eyes. Her clothing left very little to the imagination. She wore a spiked, bejeweled, golden bra and pantie set, pale purple material hanging from her waistband. She wore thigh high boots in a matching design to her outfit.

"Whether you want or need one is irrelevant, my lord. Your mother demands that you take a queen or lose your crown," she said, sweeping her hand to the side. Blakius turned to face her, the vein in his temple throbbing.

"She can demand all she wants. I. Will. Not. Take. A. Queen."

Anastasia's eyebrow quirked.

"Put this conversation on hold, my lord, as it is no longer private."

Mark blinked as the doors swung open on their own and he fell forwards, landing chin first into the icy floor below. He moaned as he felt warm, sticky blood welling in his beard. He crawled to his knees and looked up, only to smirk as Anastasia stood between himself and Blakius, her staff pointed accusingly at him. Blakius shared his smirk.

"Anastasia, please put your weapon down."

Instead, Anastasia stepped closer to Mark, the tip of her staff shifting from a rounded bauble into an ornate spike. Mark raised an eyebrow.

"I wouldn't threaten me, girly," he said, standing to his full height. The tip of her spear followed him. She growled. He raised his hand and ignited it into flames, taking note that they were blue but burned cold. He pushed the tip of the spear aside.

"Anastasia, put your weapon down. Guardian Markus is always welcome here," Blakius said, resting a hand on her shoulder. She blinked as Mark raised a smug eyebrow, smirking still.

"You're a Guardian?"

Mark's casual human attire shifted and faded until he was standing before the Crown Prince of Caina in his full Guardian robes, complete with fur cloak to keep him from freezing to death.

Anastasia stepped back, her staff shifting back to its original look. She tilted her head before bowing it lowly.

"My apologies, sir." She stood straight again, gesturing to her bosom. "I am Anastasia, Prince Blakius' high priestess, and royal adviser."

"And attempted bride," Blakius added with an eye roll. He sat down in one of the chairs lining the walkway, one leg over the side. He very much behaved like his mother. Mark smirked.

"A pleasure. Could you give his royal highness and I a moment, Anastasia? I have some business I need to speak with him privately about."

Anastasia bowed her head again and disappeared in a flurry of snow. It twirled in the air for several seconds before wafting to the floor.

Mark looked over at his son who was pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I hate that I have to keep her around," he commented, looking up at Mark.

"Who is she?"

"Like she said, my adviser. She also wants to be queen as her royal title was stripped from her when I took power."

Mark sat down in a seat across from Blakius and leaned forward.

"Took power or was given power?"

The blonde smirked and leaned his head back, allowing his hair to fall behind him. A thin pink scar lined the side of his face, leading down into what appeared to be a birthmark. It was so dark it almost looked like a tattoo. Upon closer inspection, it was shaped like a snowflake.

"It does not really matter. It was not my choice. What my mother says is law. It is the very reason I am stuck in this icy prison rather than in my room at the Palace," the Prince stated, turning to look at his father. "The Palace is on lockdown until Princess Brookai is returned."

Mark rested his head in his hand, looking at Blakius but not really. His mind was abuzz with failure. He'd figured with his virtually limitless powers, he would have been able to find Brookai without any trouble, but as soon as he'd returned to Los Angeles, all he'd sensed were the demons, mortals, witches and guardian angels who inhabited the city. There was no feeling of Godliness anywhere.

That was the most frustrating part. He'd extended his reach to be able to sense any Gods among the mortal plane and had come up blank, save for Aphrodite's presence on her isle in Greece. The only new face he'd met was Brooke and she looked nothing like Blakius, Serenity or Mark. The closest resemblance he could think of was Glory, Serenity's human form, but even then that was a stretch.

Mark brought his attention back to his son.

"Did you say on lock-down?"

Blakius nodded.

"Hades locked the gates up tight after my mother's last tantrum. No one can enter or leave the palace. Not through the main gates anyway. There are still ways to get in, of course."

"How?"

"The easiest way is the Trial of Champions, but two people have to take that."

Mark leaned back in the seat and sighed.

"I haven't been able to find your sister, I'm barred from entering the palace and there's no way for me to get in. This is just a fucking brilliant day."

Blakius looked over at his father.

"Brookai would not use her given name if that helps at all." Mark sat up like a bolt of lightning had hit him. Blakius smiled. "We were given two names at birth. A divine name and a human name. She would be using her human name."

"Do you know it by chance?"

"I do. My names are Blakius Hades Calaway and Blake Madiun Static. Hers are Brookai Persephone Calaway and Brooke Paris Static."

Mark's jaw dropped open as the names rolled from Blakius' mouth.

Brooke was Brookai's human form. She was hiding in plain sight. Something was suppressing her ability to be found which had been infuriating. She was working for her sister and with her brother.

That brought up the next problem.

How on Earth would he be able to explain this situation to her, or April for that matter? April had the temper of a scorned God when she was pissed off and this situation would definitely be a trigger for her.

Blakius' voice broke through his reverie.

"I take it you've found her human form, then?"

"I have but she's going to be difficult to get to. I'm not sure how to go about it," Mark answered, looking over at his son. "Any way I can get to the Palace without going through a trial to do it?"

Blakius shook his head.

"The Trial of Champions, the Gods, and Demons are the only ways to get into the palace without going through the gate. As stated previously, the Trial of Champions is the easiest but it requires two people."

Mark waved his hand dismissively, standing.

"I can easily find someone to run it with me. I need to get to the palace so I don't have a choice."

Blakius nodded, waving his hand.

The doors to the castle that had slammed shut behind before now swung open, revealing a giant stone portal. It was shaped like a slightly lop-sided V, a straight line of brick boxing it in. It hummed as the runes around it began to glow blue. The center sparked to life, igniting with a blaze of blue fire. It crackled for a moment then calmed down.

"That will return you to the place you were as you fell asleep, and you won't feel a thing," Blakius explained, grinning. He now stood beside Mark, matching his height almost perfectly.

"Any after effects I should know about? Sudden sleep paralysis, nausea... death?" Mark grinned as he stepped closer to the portal. It continued to hum.

"No. You will be perfectly fine."

Mark turned back to face his son.

"Thanks, Blake."

Blakius grinned.

"Just bring my sister home, then we will be even. Good luck on the trial, father."

Mark smirked and stepped into the portal, feeling his consciousness return to his body. For a moment he jerked, feeling... something... he couldn't tell what it was so he fell into a blissful sleep, the echoes of two whispered words on the edges of his mind, too silent to comprehend.

 _Help me..._


	12. Chapter Eleven: The Cracks

Chapter Eleven: The Cracks

Brooke stepped through the kitchen as the morning sun rose, following James as he lead her to a private staircase leading to the roof. Dark orange light filtered through and onto James' bare skin, causing his tribal tattoos to appear even darker. He held her hands as he led her up.

Brooke looked around at the beautiful area. A small building sat on the far end, windowless and apparently locked. A large padlock barred any access to the room. Across from that was a large planter box, filled to the brim with a beautiful array of colorful flowers. Hanging on the wall of Trip's Pawn Shop and Lodging was a large target, several arrows sticking out of the red painted circle in the middle. A chest sat next to it, over flowing with arrows, a bow and more archery supplies. A second stairway led down into a separate apartment.

"It's beautiful," she commented, letting James lead her to a seat that over looked the city below them.

"I share the roof with Willa and Mona but they never come up here, so I have a place I can go that helps me cope," James said, sitting down. He reached up towards the vine that covered the small room, tugging a flower free. He handed it to Brooke. "Lucy and I used to plant colorful flowers all over the city to make it a little prettier." He looked across to the garden. "I still do it sometimes."

"See? She's still with you," Brooke said, holding his hand. He smiled softly and brought her knuckles to his lips, lightly kissing them.

"I'm learning to let go of the painful memories and hold onto the amazing ones... I was never able to do that until you showed up."

Brooke smiled and leaned her head on his shoulder, feeling warm feelings bubbling inside as James curled his arm around her shoulders.

They sat together in silence, watching the sun rise together over the murky bay of Santa Monica. Everything was beautiful and peaceful, and it appeared the sun felt the same way. It dipped Santa Monica in gold and red as it slowly rose.

As the glow became brighter, Brooke's pocket vibrated. She ignored it and curled further into James' side. Here she stayed, bliss filling her consciousness.

Her phone buzzed again, this time followed by the sound of Red & Violet by Kidneythieves, a band she'd found and fallen in love with. She rolled her eyes and sat up, retrieving her blasted device from her pocket.

 _April Calaway (S?)_ flashed across the screen.

"Hi, April," she greeted, gesturing to James that she was going over to the target. He nodded and leaned back in the seat, casually watching her.

" _Morning. I take it you didn't get Xander's text?"_

Brooke looked at her phone, going into her messages.

 _New Message: Xander Levesque  
6:56am, April 27th, 2012_

 _Hi Brooke. I know it's early but you need to come to the cafe. It's urgent.  
Xander: What If The Silent Majority Wasn't Silent Anymore?_

"I just saw it. How urgent are we talking?" Brooke said to April, looking over at James. He smiled at her, turning his head to face the sun rise.

" _Well, he's basically sweating bullets and my father is here. You better come quick."_

"I'm on my way."

She slipped her phone back in her pocket and went back to James. He turned and smiled at her, only for that smile to slip away.

"What's wrong?"

"April just called to ask me to go to the cafe."

"But you don't have work today."

"I know. She said it was urgent though."

James thought for a moment before he stood and took her hand.

"I'll drive you. No point in me going to sleep now if my beautiful protector isn't here."

Brooke grinned and jabbed him in the ribs, curling her arms around his waist.

~X~

April was just setting up the umbrellas outside when Brooke and James arrived. She threw James an ugly glare, only for her expression to flip to shock when Brooke dismounted the bike and kissed him, waving goodbye as he sped off into the streets.

"I'm gonna pretend you guys aren't sleeping together," she said as Brooke sidled up, stupid grin on her face. The blonde shrugged her shoulders.

"I know you don't like him, but I do and it's my decision."

April nodded, popping the umbrella so it spread and covered them in shade.

"I never said I don't like him, Brooke. I hate him. Big difference."

The dark haired beauty stepped into the cafe. It was empty, save for Xander, Cooper and Mark who were sitting down. Mark and Xander sat at a table while Cooper sat on the counter, legs swinging, the older two looking very ashen in the face. She stopped, watching them all. Mark looked up at her, green eyes boring into her as if she weren't even there. Xander gave her a sympathetic smile as he sipped at his coffee.

"Sorry if we woke you, B," he said, offering for her to sit down. Cooper smiled at her.

"Honestly, you don't look like you've slept."

"I haven't," Brooke replied as she sat down across from Xander, looking at Mark. He was watching her, his eyebrow slightly quirked.

"I'm just gonna come out and say it," he said, leaning forward. "You really need to go home."

"That's one way to put it," April said from behind the counter. Brooke looked over at her. The older woman shook her head and rested it against her hand. "My father has the worst way of doing things. He has severe foot-in-mouth syndrome."

"Shut up, I do not," Mark replied, laughter touching his voice. He smirked at April then looked back at the blonde, resting his jaw in his hand.

"What's going on?" Brooke asked, more confused than before. Mark was telling her to go home but they'd barely spoken before. How could be tell her that without really knowing her?

"I know who you are, Brooke, and I also know that if you don't go home and explain everything, your mother is going to wipe out the entire city looking for you."

Brooke swallowed back the lump in her throat. The ring around her finger gripped tighter to her skin, forcing her powers even further down until all she could feel was a tiny flame as opposed to the inferno that raged normally. She blinked and looked at Mark.

"I don't want to go home. I like my life here and I could never have it there. I won't go back."

"You won't have a choice if she has her way."

She was about to open her mouth again when Xander stood from his seat. He paced back and forth before looking over at April.

"Isn't there something we can do to keep Brooke here? Strip her of her powers?"

April shook her head.

"I can do it for a demon or witch, but not a God, or demi-Goddess in this case. Even if Abs and Annie were here to help we couldn't. Our powers wouldn't be strong enough."

"Woah, hold on. Who said I had powers?" Brooke blurted, looking between April, Xander and Mark. Mark shook his head and leaned closer.

"Like I said, Brooke. I know who you are. I know you're really Brookai Persephone Calaway, Crown Princess of Caina. I know you have a twin brother named Blakius, I know you're Serenity's daughter, and I know your father is her Guardian."

Brooke blinked, her jaw dropping open. How did he know? Had Sam told him? Daniel and Willa knew too, was it one of them? Someone had confessed her true identity and...

"How do you know that?" Brooke whispered, defeat forcing her shoulders to slump.

Mark sat back in his seat and smirked.

"Because I'm Lady Serenity's Guardian. You think I don't know my own daughter when I see her?"

A square, red coaster flew across the room and hit Mark in the side of the head, causing him to jerk his attention to April who stood glaring at him.

"What was that for?"

"If you've known all along who she is, why the fuck didn't you saying anything?!" She threw another coaster at him, only for him to block it with his hand. He hissed in pain. "You have so many secrets, Dad, that you could fill a library."

"I couldn't say anything until Brooke knew, April," he said, standing. He stood eye to eye with his offspring, glaring at her from across the cafe. "It just so happens you found out at the same time."

April's eyes narrowed, glaring daggers at her father. The air seemed to shift from confusion to rage as she did. Xander stepped between them as if to stop her from obliterating her father with more flying coasters, only to explode into a shower of silver lights.

All activity in the cafe stopped. Cooper blinked, looking between Mark and April. Mark relaxed, look of confusion on his face. He looked at April. April continued glaring, but chose instead to look away. Brooke blinked.

"Did anyone else just see Xander explode?" She asked, her words falling on deaf ears.

"Did you just try and use your powers on me?" Mark asked April, causing her to jerk her head in his direction.

"Of course I did! It's the least of what you deserve, you self-entitled asshole! You hide everything from us! It wasn't until you were supposed to die that you told us you sold your damn soul, and you kept Brooke from us for as long as she's been alive! How did you think I was going to react?!"

"She has a point, Dad," Cooper added, earning himself a glare. He scowled. "I mean, you kept me from them when I was younger for fear of ridicule. Imagine how we feel. You have to know everything about us but we barely know you."

Brooke stood, stopping Mark from replying. She'd gained the attention of everyone in the room.

"I repeat, did anyone else just see Xander explode?"

Mark nodded slowly.

"April is a witch. She has powers of destruction."

April appeared beside Brooke and wrapped her arms around her.

"I know you like Xander. He'll be okay."

"How?! He exploded!" Brooke all but screamed.

She was about to continue her rant when the silver lights appeared again, glittering and shining in the morning light. They hovered for a few moments before Xander's voice echoed around the empty cafe.

"Is it safe to reform or am I going to explode again?"

"You're fine, babe," April said, turning to the lights.

They twirled and bounced, moving to form the shape of a human figure. After a second or two, Xander's coughing form appeared. He slicked his spiky black hair out of his face, covering his mouth. The lights faded away, leaving behind the man that had been standing there beforehand. He grinned, coughing again.

"I know I can't die, April, but that's no excuse to blow me up," he said, stepping over to kiss her on the temple. She smiled at him.

"That wasn't aimed at you," she replied. She looked back at Brooke. "I really am sorry you had to find out this way."

"If it helps," Mark interjected, looking at the blonde. "No one can get into or out of the palace right now since your mother threw her last tantrum, so you'll have some time to get your affairs in order."

"What do you mean no one can get in?" Brooke asked, shock rocketing through her system.

Nothing could close the gates in Caina except the Queen. Did that mean Blake was trapped below unable to contact her? It explained why her birthmark was darkening. He was trying to reach out to her but couldn't. His birthmark would be so dark and it would be starting to freeze, if the warmth in her arm was any indication.

Mark smiled sympathetically.

"I spoke to Blake. He's in Frostbite with no way to get into the palace."

"Who is Blake?" April asked. She looked at her father, her eyes narrowed and angry, though her face was soft and confused.

"My twin. He's in the Underworld with my mother," Brooke answered. She turned to Mark. "How are you going to get to my mother?"

Mark sat down again, running his fingers through his hair. He sighed, thinking.

"I have to run the Trial of Champions, but I need a partner."

"Not it," Xander and Cooper said together, grinning at each other. Mark snorted laughter.

"I wasn't going to ask. I can't ask anyone I love because I don't know what the trial entails. They could die."

"They won't," Brooke said, smiling slightly. Finally, something she knew. She'd been in Inferno long enough to know the rituals that went into earning ranks among Iremia's armies and council. She and Blake only had noble titles due to their birth; they had yet to earn any other titles.

"What makes you say that?"

"You'll need someone strong to run it with you. Someone you can trust, but also someone you're not afraid to fight. The Trial of Champions ends in the arena in Caina, where the two participants must fight to become Lady Iremia's Champion."

Brooke felt herself smirking at the dumbfounded look on her father's face. Even as Guardian to the Queen, he knew absolutely nothing about her Queendom.

She looked over at April who was smirking at her father.

"Dad, you know as well as I do that there's only one person you can ask who would actually accept the offer."

Cooper nodded beside her.

"And the only reason he will is because it means he can beat you into a bloody pulp with no repercussions."

Mark sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn't look happy at all. Brooke looked between her father and siblings, hoping one of them would explain. When no answer came, she sighed.

"I'm not a mind reader, people. Someone explain who-"

Mark held up his hand, cutting Brooke off. She gave him her most appalled expression as he picked up his jacket and swung it around his shoulders, stalking out of the cafe. Her gaze followed him before she turned back to Xander, Cooper and April who were all grinning.

Cooper's face contorted as he tried to hold back laughter. His wall fell and he fell backwards onto the counter, laughing so hard she thought he might explode.

"What's so funny?"

Xander rested a hand on her shoulder before disappearing onto the patio, flipping the open sign over. As he did this, April pulled Brooke into her arms, hugging her closely.

"The funny part is Dad is going to ask someone who wants to kill him to help him."

Brooke blinked.

"Who wants to kill him?"

April unwrapped her arms and smiled at her, a soft smile that seemed to make her eyes twinkle.

"Kane."


	13. Chapter Twelve: The Steps To Salvation

Chapter Twelve: The Steps To Salvation

It was mid-morning when Brooke returned to the apartment, more confused than ever. April and Cooper were her siblings, April had mystical abilities and their father was about to run the Trial of Champions just to return to the Amethyst Palace which was on lock-down. These thoughts swam through her head as she walked, images of her brother flashing through her mind as well. Blake was in his domain, barred from entering to palace. That would be torture for him; despite the fact he had ice running through his veins, Blake hated the cold. He would be in the bedroom of his castle, sitting on the plush sofa covered in multiple, thick layers of blankets to keep him from freezing to death. He would be screaming for her to return if only she could hear him.

It was this thought that gave her an idea as she pushed open the door to her apartment. James was lying on the sofa with a game controller in his hand, playing a video game on his TV. He glanced over as Brooke entered the room, smiling at her before returning his attention to the game. She walked around the sofa and laid down next to him, resting her head on his bicep. It was soft and warm, only pulsing when James tapped a button on the controller. He moved slightly so his stomach and thighs were against her back, bringing his arms around her.

"How did it go?" he asked, eyes still glued to the screen. She knew him well enough to know that he would be able to play and talk to her at the same time. He was a multitasking master. Brooke sighed and brought her hand up to rest underneath his arm, squeezing it gently.

"Let's just say I'm happy to be home," she whispered, nuzzling into him.

She felt his hand on her arm and turned to look up at him. He was smiling down at her, compassion glinting in his eyes.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She shook her head and brought his arm around her again, back to the controller. As she let go, the birthmark on her wrist glowed and became black. Blake was calling for her again. She had to get to him somehow.

With the Amethyst Palace on lock-down, the other nine layers would be as well. Frontinus Mordent and Ignis Infernalis were both located in the sixth layer of Hell, also known as Heresy. They were much closer to the Palace than a lot of other places, including Erebus, known to most as Limbo. If she could get to Blake, possibly through her dreams, she might be able to sneak into the castle. She just needed to remove her power-suppressing ring and fall asleep.

Feeling James' eyes on her, she looked up and faked a yawn.

"I just want to watch you play. If I fall asleep, please don't wake me."

"Never." James leaned down and kissed her temple, sending a ripple of warmth through her. She smiled and cuddled closer to him. He moved around her, encompassing her in his warmth. As he did this, she removed her ring and slipped it down her sleeve, hoping it wouldn't fall free while she slept.

It didn't take long for Brooke to fall asleep. As she did, she felt the warmth of James' embrace fade away, only to be replaced with the burning inferno of her throne room in Ignis Infernalis. She turned, feeling her human clothes fading away. Lava from the gaps in the floor coiled up and around her, covering her from the neck down. When it sank away again, she was in her royal attire; floor length skirt made of flames and fabric, heart-shaped bodice lined with molten gold and her thigh high molten gold boots. The only thing missing was her tiara.

"Your Highness?!"

Brooke turned sharply, spying Marcel, her adviser standing in the archway leading outside. He was holding an arm full of Infernal Roses and was staring at her like he'd seen a ghost. The roses he held only bloomed in the Garden of Fire, deep below Caina, near the gate to Tartarus. It was home to Mionette, the Titan Goddess of Fire. The fact he held these flowers meant he'd been below.

"Hello Marcel, what beautiful flowers you have there," she said cheerily, trying to sound casual. He blinked, looking down at his arms before looking back at her.

"Yes, milady, they are."

"It is my understanding that the Underworld is on lock-down," Brooke said, choosing her words carefully. Marcel was very clever and would most likely know she was up to something. He appeared to be gobsmacked by her sudden arrival at home.

Marcel tilted his head slightly. He was about to speak when a pale hand covered his mouth.

Attached to that hand was Blake, his blazer and lower parts of his pants darkened with soot. He must have sensed his sister's return and came straight away, across the bridge that joined Ignis Infernalis and Frontinus Mordent together.

Brooke's lips broke out into a smile as she ran for him, throwing her arms around his neck. It had been weeks since they'd seen each other and he was her best friend after all. He wrapped his arms around her waist and twirled her around, burying his face in her hair.

When the spinning stopped, Blake placed his sister back on the ground and held her face in his hands, staring into her eyes.

"Are you hurt in any way, Brookai? Did they hurt you?"

Brooke smiled and shook her head, pulling his hands away.

"The only thing hurting inside me right now is my pride. It's good to see you, Blake."

Blake smiled and pulled her in for another hug, gripping the back of her neck.

"You've missed so much, Brooke. Mother has lost her mind and put the entirety of the Underworld on lock-down. No one has been able to travel between planes without permission to use the portals since you disappeared. Even Hades is locked away," he explained, pulling his sister away by the end. "How did you get here?"

"The same way our father did. I'm asleep."

Blake shook his head, still smiling.

"He is an interesting man."

"What have I missed down here?"

"How much time have you got?"

All Brooke could do was grin.

~X~

The flames around Mark disappeared as he appeared in an alleyway. He was somewhere in Las Vegas, not far from the strip. He could see the beams of light in the sky, breaking through the cloudy sky into the heavens. He raised an eyebrow. He'd used his immense powers to search across the globe for Kane's presence, teleporting to his location in a heartbeat.

The thing that confused him the most wasn't Kane's proximity to his children, but the fact he was in Las Vegas. Two years previously he'd relocated from Carson City to Los Angeles to help him train to fight Serenity, and returned to Carson City not long after. Why was he in Las Vegas of all places?

He got his answer when he spotted Kane across the street with Raven and Cam, his partner and adopted son, in tow. They appeared to be looking for someone. He knew immediately who; Doctor Steven Richards.

Mark felt his powers building as he reached into the void again, searching the world for Doctor Richards. He found him in Los Angeles, just off the coast of Malibu. Satisfied that he was still where he was supposed to be, Mark let go of the connection and stepped out into the busy crosswalk of Sin City, making a beeline for his younger brother.

"We've looked all over this damn state for that quack and have come up empty," Kane was saying as Mark stepped behind them. Raven saw him and blinked, nodding ever so slightly when Mark put a finger to his lips. Kane shook his head and picked up the barely walking Cam. "I swear if he's left Nevada I'm going to scream."

"Start screaming then," Mark said, grinning as Kane jumped about a thousand feet in the air. He turned and glared at his brother.

"What the hell are you doing here?!"

"Still trying to come up with creative ways to kill you," Mark mused, ruffling Cam's hair. The almost three-year-old grinned and playfully batted at his hand. "Apparently heart attack won't be one of them."

Kane glared.

"As painful as it is to see you still breathing, Mark, what the hell do you want?"

"I need your help."

Kane spent the entire walk back to their hotel room holding his ribs and laughing. Mark had chosen not to spill anything about the Trial yet, but the fact he needed Kane's help again had made his brother almost fall apart with laughter. By the time they stepped into the room, Kane was struggling to breathe.

"I can't believe you!" he bellowed, collapsing onto a large gray sofa. Mark leaned against the doorway, watching his brother.

"I thought we were on better terms, Kane."

Kane sat up and grinned.

"We are. Doesn't mean I'm going to help you without getting something in return."

"I thought so."

Mark looked over at the kitchenette of the room, spying Daffney. She was a shortish girl with shoulder-length black hair and a very petite frame. She was leaning on her elbow, staring into a mug. Beside her, reading a magazine, was Tara. She was the same age as Daffney but looked much younger. Her hair was in long dark curls with streaks of red and it reached her lower back.

Mick Foley, Kane's closest 'friend', was leaning against the counter, talking to Tara as she read. When he spotted Mark, he became very pale.

"Don't worry, Mick. I'm not here to turn you in."

"I'm not worried about that."

Mark smiled and looked back at Kane who was still laughing, though it had died down a little.

"Raven, take Cam somewhere," the Big Red Machine said, pointing at one of the rooms. Raven nodded and picked up Cam, who had been attempting to climb on Kane's lap. "You three need to vanish as well. Big Brother and I have some things to talk about."

Mark watched as the room slowly emptied, stepping in and closing the door behind him. He sat on the sofa across from Kane and stared at him.

Kane leaned back into the soft leather, arms splayed to the side. He stared at his brother like he was an insect that he was just begging to crush under his heel.

"What do you want from me, Mark?"

Mark sighed and told Kane the story; how Serenity had tasked him with finding their wayward child, how when the time came that he had found her, he wasn't able to convince her to go home, what Blake had told him about the Trial of Champions, how it took two people to complete.

By the time he was finished, Mark was beginning to wonder if Kane would agree to help him or not. Through the entire story, he had looked incredibly bored.

"So let me get this straight," Kane said, leaning back in the sofa again. The one movement he'd made was to stop lounging and actually sit up. Maybe he was really listening. "The She-Devil, who is still your mistress, gave you your marching orders and then disappeared off the face of the earth. The only way to get to her tantrum-throwing self is to go through some stupid quest to become her champion, but you need me to run it with you for... arbitrary reasons even you don't fully understand?"

Mark blinked. He had been listening after all. Slowly, he nodded.

Kane smirked.

"I'm in."

"Wait, what?"

Kane sat up and stared his brother dead in the eye. His mismatched eyes appeared to be staring straight through him.

"After the hell I've put you through trying to be a free man, I owe you. I don't like having debts."

Mark blinked again as Kane looked away and lounged on the sofa again, closing his eyes.

"Besides, any chance to beat you into the ground for what you did to me, is a chance I am willing to take."

Mark sat back, relief flooding his senses.

"Thanks, Kane."

"Don't mention it." He opened an eye and looked up at his brother. "Ever. To anyone. You do and I'll find a way to butcher you."

Mark grinned as he left the hotel room, walking out into the setting sun of Las Vegas. It was still miserably hot, but he pulled on his leather jacket none the less and melted into the crowd of tourists. As he disappeared within them, he thought to himself how easy it had been to convince Kane to join him. Maybe that had been the easy part and the trial was going to be much harder. Or he just underestimated how much Kane really hated him.

Either way, he couldn't lose.


	14. Chapter Thirteen: The Little Details

Chapter Thirteen: The Little Details

As she hugged her brother goodbye, Brooke gently stirred from her sleep in the living room of her apartment. She was alone and covered in a blanket. She blinked into the yellow light of the afternoon sun as it streamed through the windows. She blinked again as James' moving silhouette came into view, placing something into the trunk near the wall. She managed to get a small glimpse of its dull, green glow; a sword. Why did he have a sword?

"James?"

James turned and smiled at her as the trunk lid closed, the glow from the blade disappearing.

"Hey, you're awake. You looked so happy that I didn't want to wake you."

Brooke sat up and smiled at him, feeling her ring fall from the inside of her sleeve. It dropped to the ground with a hard thunk. She reached down to pick it up, only for it to float up and zip across the room into James' outstretched hand.

James caught the ring and looked at it, eyeing the intricate vine details, turning it between his fingers. He stepped over to her, sitting where her head had been. He took her hand and placed it back on her finger.

"We don't want the She-Bitch finding you now, do we?" he said with a smile. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the ring.

"Thank you. Is everything okay?" she looked over to the trunk, then back into his eyes. They stared back at her.

"Yeah. While you were asleep I took a nap. I thought knowing you were in the house I wouldn't freak out, but I did." He gestured to the trunk with his head. "I try not to use my powers any chance I get, but I didn't really have a choice this time. I summoned my sword to my hand without realizing it."

"I was wondering why you had that," Brooke replied smiling at him.

James looked away, a shy smile on his face. He shook his head and looked back at her, offering his hand to help her stand. She fell into his arms, causing him to laugh.

"Alright, sleepy, when you're awake enough, I have to go to work." He gave her a questioning look.

"What should I do while you're gone?" she asked, watching as he picked up his keys from the table. He flexed his back muscles, pushing his chest forward.

"Well, Willa is nursing a nasty hangover, Mona is at work and I think Daniel is down the coast for some surfing comp. Sam is the only one around today I think."

Brooke grinned. She didn't have work that day, April had been kind enough to give her the afternoon off, and she definitely wanted to spend time with Sam. He was the closest thing she had to a friend besides James, and she felt really connected to him.

She nodded and smiled, watching James get ready for work.

"Seeing Sam would be a great idea."

~X~

Sam lived in an area of Los Angeles called Walnut Park, aptly named for the trees that lined its streets. It was about forty minutes from her apartment, and she enjoyed the ride along the highway. It didn't appear to be the 'slums' like Santa Monica was, but it was certainly not far from it. Several young ladies stood on street corners, wearing very skimpy clothing. As she got closer to suburbia, Brooke noticed the houses get more and more exquisite; manicured lawns, high rise windows, and spectacular water features. She bobbed through the traffic, drawn only to the presence of the Horseman of Famine. His house was situated at the end of a street lined with walnut trees.

She pulled into the driveway and took off her helmet. She looked up at the house, raising an eyebrow as she caught sight of a pink and white flag flying from a second story planter box. On it was a black and white bear with a tiara on. She shook her head and had a good look at the house. It was a beautiful house on a lot of other identical houses. The only indicator that Sam lived there was the open garage housing his motorcycle. It had a pale orange exterior, lined with white detailing.

A small pot plant sat at the top of the steps leading to the front door, wilting in the shade of the large tree in the garden. She stepped up to it, crouching down to touch the soil. The plant sprang to life under her fingers, her passive powers drying out the drowning plant. Its super thin spikes poked out as it stood. It was a cactus. Brooke frowned. She knew enough about plants to know this particular plant needed to be in the sun and only needed a small amount of water.

Making sure no one was around, Brooke used her sizable strength and lifted the pot off the ground, carefully going down the steps and back towards the garage where a patch of sunlight sat. She placed it, turned the pot slightly then dusted off her hands.

"Wow."

Brooke's gaze jerked upwards. She smiled when she saw Sam and a young girl poking their heads out of the window with the flag. Sam looked like he'd been awake for hours, while the girl looked positively exhausted, though there was some life in her eyes. She was young, possibly mid teens, with shoulder-length, dark brown hair pulled into high pigtails with a blunt-cut fringe and glasses. She had a round face covered in freckles and a light complexion. Sam's daughter, maybe? He didn't really seem like the type to have children.

Sam turned to the girl.

"Molly, why don't you go and let Brooke in."

"Okay!" she replied in a voice much younger than she looked.

Brooke watched, bewildered, as Molly disappeared back behind the curtain.

"That look is pretty accurate if James hasn't explained about my ward," Sam said. Brooke blinked at him.

"I didn't even know you had one."

Sam nodded his head and disappeared back inside, his voice filtering through the curtains. "I'll explain inside!"

Just as Brooke was about to call back out to him, the front door opened the Molly poked her head out. She smiled broadly.

"Come in, come in!" she chortled, waving Brooke over.

The fallen Princess stepped inside after the brunette, watching as she closed the door and skipped towards Sam who was coming down the stairs. The house was very nice, despite all the toys strewn through the living room, spilling from a pink toy chest shaped like a castle. Molly skipped around Sam and then leaped onto the plush sofa, bouncing up and down with excitement. At the end of a small hall beside the staircase was a security door that led to the small backyard and a second door to the right. To the left of the stairs was an archway that led to the dining area, and the kitchen. There were drawings on the wall, as well as a few paintings.

A small fluffy dog was asleep in a basket, a pink bow tied around her neck. She was white and looked very pet-able.

"I take it that's Pippa?" Brooke asked, pointing to the dog.

"Yep, the silly girl was out all morning chasing squirrels so she's all worn out. Normally she would be barking at the door," Sam explained, combing his fingers through his unkempt blonde hair. It spiked up all over his head.

Molly giggled from her seat in the living room, playing with the pink braided bracelet around her wrist. Sam looked over at her and grinned.

"Chasing after you is a lot easier than chasing after Pippa, Mol," he said, retrieving what appeared to be a plush dragon from his pocket. He tossed it at her, hitting her in the chest. She gasped and grinned at him, though the grin faded as she began to sway.

Sam was at her side in an instant, soothing hand on her shoulder.

"Molly, go upstairs and lie down. The dizziness will go away eventually," he said, reaching up to tilt her head towards him. Her tired eyes smiled at him as she nodded. She slowly got off the sofa and wandered upstairs. One final wave to Brooke and she was gone.

"Is she going to be okay?" the princess asked, watching Sam stand and stretch his back.

"Yeah, but she won't be Molly when she comes back," he said, walking past her into the dining room. She followed after him, watching as he went into the kitchen nook and opened the refrigerator.

She stared at him. What the hell was he talking about?

Sam closed the fridge and handed Brooke a can of lemonade.

"With her, there is a lot more going on beneath the surface," he explained. She stared at him still, blinking in confusion.

"Meaning?"

He sighed and hoisted himself onto the countertop.

"She has dissociative identity disorder." When Brooke's blank stare remained, he grinned. "Multiple personalities. She has eighteen unique identities living in her. She was brutally traumatized as a kid so her mind split off to protect itself."

Brooke felt her jaw drop open.

It did explain Molly's younger sounding voice, but not everything else. It was clearly a more complicated topic and Sam was trying to make it more simple for her to understand. But for the Princess to understand, she needed to ask more questions, just like she had with James. She took a deep breath and a sip of her drink.

"How old is she?"

Sam glanced at her.

"Her body is seventeen, but the alternate identities vary in age. Molly is the youngest. She's five."

"Okay, that explains her voice. What is her body's name?"

A difficult question to word, no doubt about it. Maybe it was something she wanted to keep hidden, or maybe she wasn't allowed to tell strangers? Brooke wasn't sure how the condition worked. She knew very little about mental disorders. James had told her he had post-traumatic stress disorder, and that his symptoms came as nightmares and flashbacks, among many others. What came with dissociative identity disorder, other than alternate identities? These questions and more swam in her head as she tried to absorb everything.

"The body's name is Lydia, but she's not out very often on her own. Marcella is usually with her." Sam smiled as a soft thump from upstairs garnered his attention, followed by his name being called in a voice much different from Molly. "I'll be right back." After a moment, Sam poked his head back in from the stairwell. "Some advice is to treat each alter like their own person. You can usually tell who's out by mannerisms and accent. It'll take some getting used to, but I think you'll be okay." With that, he was gone again.

Brooke blinked. This was all very confusing. So Molly was a five-year-old living in the body of a seventeen-year-old named Lydia, and there were more than just her, all with different mannerisms and history? She assumed that meant they came with their own memories, but the bigger question is why was Lydia the way she was? What had happened to her?

A spark of gold caught Brooke's attention and she turned, spying a large whiteboard on the wall. Gold and silver stars lined the edge. Written in different colored markers were names, nineteen in total.

Sam, Marcella, Winston, Fox, Antonia, Molly, Mitchell, Cassidy, Skylar, Churchill, Dominick, Annabelle, Lucas, March, Tyler, Macie, Darcy, and Penny.

Next to those names was a grid with 'CHORE CHART' written at the top. There were chores written in certain sections, as well as a post-it-note beside Annabelle's name, reading 'screw you I don't do chores.'

"That's to make sure everyone pulls their weight."

Brooke turned back to the living room as Sam returned with Lydia. The young girl now held herself with a sense of esteem. Her shoulders stood taller and she appeared much more confident. The pigtails had been replaced with loose, wavy hair and a lavender colored headband. She also was wearing different clothes. Molly had been wearing a light pink shirt with pale blue overalls and bare feet. Whoever was out now had changed their clothes to match their personal dress sense. The teenage girl now wore a flowing blue and purple strapless dress with sandals. She also didn't look as tired.

"Annabelle doesn't appear to want to cooperate," Brooke said, gesturing to the board. The girl laughed.

"No, but she isn't out enough to help anyway. I'm Marcella." Her accent was very thick as if she was from a northern country. Possibly somewhere in Europe.

Brooke smiled. _Treat each alter like their own person._ "It's lovely to meet you, Marcella. I'm Brooke."

"The Queen's wayward daughter finally arrives."

Brooke felt her jaw drop open again, her gaze falling on Sam. He hid his smile behind his hand, stifling his laughter.

"Sam shouldn't go telling my secrets to everyone," she said, glaring at him. He merely shook his head.

"He didn't, sweetie," Marcella said with a giggle. "I'm psychic. I see things before they happen. I saw your arrival and I know what's going to happen next, especially to your father during his trial."

Brooke raised an eyebrow and looked at her.

"I'm listening."

Marcella giggled again.

"I can't tell you, or it will not happen. Sorry, but that's not how it works."

Brooke smirked. Of course. She peered out the window towards uptown Los Angeles.

Mark was out there somewhere preparing to run one of the most difficult trials the Underworld had to offer and she had no way to help him. She wished she could, but part of her was glad he didn't have an advantage. She was concerned about her mother's safety, but if she could draw out the trial as long as she could, the longer she could stay in the mortal realm with James and her friends. She was torn between the two.

Envy suddenly welled in her chest as she watched Sam and Marcella busy themselves in the kitchen, preparing food. The younger members of Lydia's mental family were lucky that they didn't have to deal with all the rigors of normal life.

As she sat down, her mind wandered again, back to her brother and father. Blake would have found a way to cross over from the Underworld to help Mark. He had to. There was no one else who knew the labyrinthine tunnels of the Underworld quite like Blake and no one else would be willing to help Mark and Kane in any way.

She found herself wondering if Kane had even agreed to run the gauntlet. Mark wouldn't be able to do it alone so he would need him.

Brooke peered down at the flame on her wrist. It was almost black now, with tiny veins spreading out from its core. Blake was now in the same realm she was, but her ring was keeping him from her. Hopefully, he was helping Mark with whatever he had to do for the trial.

Hopefully.

~X~

Mark gasped as a white boot connected with his ribs, dropping him to the gymnastics mat beneath his feet. He doubled over, his arms curling tightly around his chest. Blake's boot had connected hard with his sternum, driving all the air from his lungs. He could feel every ounce of pain that Blake was inflicting, driving home his point that only supernatural beings could hurt him.

Laughter broke through the rush of blood in his head and he turned, growling as Kane leaned back in his seat. They were at a private gym in Las Vegas that catered to mixed martial arts and parkour training with Blake, who was helping them train for the trial. He wasn't going easy on him, which is what Mark had asked for, but he wasn't giving the older man a chance to defend himself, let alone fight back. If this was the kind of punishment he could expect in the trial, maybe he wasn't cut out for it.

Blake's boot connected with his forehead, forcing him backward with a loud thud. Kane's laugh only grew louder.

"I'd like to see you do better!" Mark said, rubbing his forehead.

"He is next," Blake said, offering his hand to his father. Mark took it and got to his feet.

Every part of him ached. Blake had turned him from hulking giant into pulp as quickly as he'd stepped through the icy portal from his domain. It appeared whoever was running the trial was allowing Blake to enter his domain and the mortal realm, but nowhere else.

"If you do not even connect with your assailant, there is no way you can win," Blake said, drawing his father's attention again.

"How am I supposed to do that when you are relentless? And how the hell is this going to help anyway? What if the trial portions don't even involve fighting?"

Kane sat up again and gestured to Mark.

"He has a point, kid. You said we're going through the nine layers of inferno, right? Why don't we just follow the same path Dante did?" he asked, earning a smirk from Blake.

"Things have changed since Dante walked the circles," he said. He rolled his eyes as he looked at Kane. "What makes you believe it will be that simple, uncle?"

Kane smirked.

"I'm a monster among men and he's an undead wizard," he replied, pointing at Mark who growled at him. "If anybody can do it, we can."

Blake smirked and, to prove his point, dropped to a frog-squat and swept his leg around, tripping Mark back to the floor. The older man groaned as his son and brother laughed. The blonde haired prince stood back to his full height and shook his head.

"I know only of the sections after Heresy, so perhaps the trial will not be combat based during the first sections," he pointed out, looking at Mark as he sat up.

"Which means you're just enjoying beating me into a bloody pulp."

Blake grinned.

"Pretty much." He shrugged and walked over to where Kane was, sitting beside him. Mark looked over at them and watched his son's cocky demeanor fade away, leaving only worry behind. He could tell what that meant. Blake had been worrying about Brooke since her departure, and now that he was in the same realm as her, the fact he couldn't find her would be eating him up inside.

"Blake, I'm sure she's fine," Mark said, attempting to soothe his son. He knew the twins were close. Growing up, they only had each other so they were best friends and siblings. Two halves of a whole, as Blake had described it. She was the fire to his ice, the perfect counterbalance. Having her be so close yet so far away was killing him.

Blake looked up and smiled softly.

"How can you be so sure? This place is so new and unfamiliar to her. What if she is lost and afraid? I cannot help her with that damn ring she wears."

Mark smiled.

"I know she's fine because her sister and brothers will be looking after her. I bet my immortality on it."

Kane grinned and gently punched Blake in the shoulder.

"Cheer up, kid. If Brooke is anything like you, I guarantee she'll be just fine."

Blake's smile improved and he stood again, turning to his uncle.

"Right. It is your turn."

Kane smirked as Mark crawled to the seats and sat down, reaching into the icebox to retrieve some ice for his throbbing head and ribs. He watched as Kane walked onto the mat, removing his shirt and stretching. The tattoo he had for Raven glowed in contrast to his pale, scarred skin. It was the only mark Kane really had to show his affection for his partner; he wasn't one to show it often. As far as Mark knew, his younger brother has never said I love you to anyone in his life before, except for Raven once the year he'd been set free.

Blake taking his fighting stance drew Mark's attention. He watched his son and brother square off, making note of their styles. Blake was low to the ground and posed to strike at the first opportunity. Kane stood tall, proud and ready, taking the standard boxing position. This wouldn't be a fight worth watching, though if Mark's match against his son had been anything to go by. He hadn't gotten a single hit in, and he was trained, at least competently, in many forms of martial arts and boxing. He was known in the wrestling business as the best pure striker, after all. Kane knew how to brawl, that was about it. He wasn't proficient in dodging or martial skills, so this would be even more of a beat down than the previous fight.

Blake took a step toward his uncle, waiting for the right time to strike. Kane merely stared, hard look in his eyes. What was the giant thinking?

The blond stepped forward into a roundhouse kick. In the blink of an eye, Kane's stoic expression slipped and he smirked, raising his hand to receive the kick. He held Blake's foot tight, grinning wildly at his nephew. Blake's expression faltered, shock crossing his features. Kane's smirk grew as he pulled Blake's foot back and drove his elbow into his knee, dropping the demi-god to the floor. He rolled forward, bringing Blake with him. Blake was now on his stomach, his legs curled upwards and around Kane's shoulders, his uncle's knee pressing against the back of his shoulders.

Mark blinked, flabbergasted at what he saw.

"Yield, little god," Kane growled, wrenching Blake's legs, pressing his knee further into his shoulders. Blake grunted and tapped his hand against the ground, the universal sign of giving up the fight. Kane released him, watching the young god flop to the ground in defeat. To add insult to the injury, Kane stepped onto his back as he walked back to the seats to retrieve his shirt.

"How did you do that?"

Kane shrugged and took a swig from his drink bottle.

"The night you beat me to a pulp, I promised myself I'd do everything to repay the favor. I may not have all the fancy powers you have, but I have the determination to lay waste to everything in my path, starting and ending with you," he explained, poking his brother in the shoulder. "Take it as a compliment and the greatest insult."

Blake sat up and stared at the two brothers as they smirked at each other. He felt himself smile. This was the reason they would beat the trial, and why they would be the only ones to ever do it. They were different in many ways, but they understood those differences enough to work together to solve their problems. Mark was the fast thinking striker, using precision and speed to incapacitate his opponent, Kane had the brute strength and maneuverability to take his opponent down and humiliate them. Together they could take on any challenge the Trail of Champions could through at them.

"I think you are ready," he said finally, drawing the attention of the two brothers.

"But I couldn't beat you," Mark said, disappointment in his voice. He shook his head. "You're only half human, so if I can't beat you, what makes you think the challenges will be easy?"

Blake shrugged.

"Because the Trial of Champions is designed to test your teamwork. I get the feeling you two have it, even if you have not shown it to me."

Kane looked at his nephew then at his brother.

"You expect us to work together despite the fact we hate each other?"

Blake nodded.

"Yes. Uncle, there is a fine line between love and hate, and you both walk that line."

Mark nodded and sat back. Maybe they could do this. Maybe they were ready for what the trial entailed, whatever that was. They had worked together before; Kane had helped Mark train for his fight with Serenity and Mark had helped Kane escape from the asylum. Mark knew that Kane would come to his aid if he ever needed it, as he had when confronted with the task ahead of them. Hopefully, Kane knew that if he ever needed Mark's help for any reason, he could always call. They were brothers, after all.

"So, when does the trial start?" Kane asked, standing. He stretched his back and grinned. Mark smiled back, looking at Blake.

Blake smirked as he stood, a whirl of snowy following him up. He raised his hand and a swirling portal appeared, gray in color but surrounded but pale blue snowflakes.

"Now."


End file.
